


Sparks and Fireworks

by Traincat



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 40,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traincat/pseuds/Traincat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of mostly SpideyTorch short fics, originally posted at tumblr mostly in response to prompts. Each chapter is a separate fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Postman AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> myvisagewasted asked: Spidey is a special delivery man for the USPS and Johnny Storm gets a lot of fan mail

The whole thing was Peter’s fault, it really was. He wasn’t going to deny it. He sold out, and now he was stuck delivering fan mail to the biggest sell out of them all, because his karmic retribution was about as subtle as a brick to the face.

“We need you to deliver all of this to the Baxter Building,” his new boss told him, first day on the job. “Their usual mailman’s on vacation.”

“Can’t I do literally anything else?” Peter asked, desperate. “Subterranea? Oscorp? Brooklyn?”

“Sorry,” was the answer. “Nobody else will touch the place. Willie Lumpkin’s the only guy ever brave enough not to run screaming out those doors. But the FF need their mail.”

“Sure,” said Peter. “I’d hate for the Thing to miss out on the latest issue of Vogue.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that more than half the mail in the bag was addressed to Johnny Storm. Peter groaned, and then he paused.

“Is something in here ticking?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” said his boss. “Try not to jostle any of Mr. Richards’ mail.”

* * *

Johnny Storm became very accustomed to having Spider-Man as his own personal delivery boy, very quickly. By week two he’d started hanging by the window, arms crossed, just standing there. Waiting.

Peter longed for the inevitable day one of them became a supervillain, just so he’d have an excuse.

“You’re late,” Johnny said, opening the window as soon as he caught sight of him.

“I live for your gratitude. Special delivery,” he said. “Straight to the 31st floor. And look what I’ve got for you today: more blind, undeserved admiration.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Johnny said. It was low, but Peter did savor the moment where he handed over the daily giant pile of mail and Johnny staggered under its weight, knees buckling. “Uh. Why does this smell like the Hudson?”

“Oh, y'know,” Peter said. “Little fight with the Enforcers. No big deal. I kept everything mostly dry.”

“Ugh, gross,” Johnny said.

“Yep,” Peter said, backflipping off the sill. “See you tomorrow, Torchie, unless you see the error of your ways, pack up and move to another zip code. I hear Alaska’s lovely this time of year.”

“I’ll write you a postcard!” Johnny shouted after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/85987206009/spidey-is-a-special-delivery-man-for-the-usps-and !


	2. Twilight-esque AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mizzmarvel asked: Johnny/Peter, "Can I tell you a secret?"  
> The highscool AU where Johnny is convinced Peter’s got a dark secret: that he’s Spider-Man. So basically the Twilight AU without vampires.

“Spider-Man’s really cool,” Johnny whispered, leaning way over onto Peter’s desk with his best smile on. “Do you want to talk about Spider-Man?”

“Uh,” said Peter, looking mildly terrified. Johnny could understand. This whole secret identity thing had to be weighing on him. All the responsibility, the not being able to talk about it — Johnny could totally get that.

“Because we could talk about Spider-Man,” Johnny said, playing it completely cool. “Seriously, whatever you want to say about ol’ Webhead — ”

The bell rang and Peter muttered a quick, “thank goodness,” before scurrying away. Johnny watched him go with narrowed eyes.

There were three things Johnny Storm was completely sure of: one, that Peter Parker had reflexes far beyond that of a normal teenager. Two, it was spandex poking out from underneath the cuff of his hoodie.

And three, that his haircut was awful.

* * *

 

“What are you, Peter Parker?” Johnny asked, cornering Peter out on the bleachers. Peter froze when Johnny draped himself practically all over him, but honestly it was just so he could weasel by again. They should call the guy Ferret-Man. “Honestly, I’m asking here.”

“Weirded out,” Peter said. “Extremely, extremely weirded out.”

“Would you say you were bugging out, maybe?” Johnny asked, completely innocently.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Peter said. “Is this some kind of new hazing? Did Flash send you?”

“Pete, c’mon, we’re friends,” Johnny said, pressing his hand to his heart. “Now between you, me and your bony knees — how long have you been bugging out?”

Peter shoved Johnny off and fled.

* * *

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Johnny asked.

“Is it that we’re on Candid Camera?” Peter said, staring warily at Johnny over the top of his book.

“I’ve always found superheroes really hot,” Johnny said.

Peter turned five different colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/90222678864/johnnypeter-can-i-tell-you-a-secret !


	3. Merman Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maryjanewatson asked: can i hit you back with the mermaid johnnypeters

“He’s in the tub,” Ben says when the elevator doors ding open. 

“He’s a goldfish!” Franklin declares, swinging from one of Ben’s arms. 

It says something awful about Peter’s life, how he doesn’t even blink. He weaves his way through the Baxter Building, waving to the kids and to Sue when he sees them. 

“See if you can at least get him to stop sulking,” Sue says, smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in her eyes. Peter feels the same way.

One of Reed’s long hands snakes through an open door halfway down the hall and Peter highfives him. 

“I’d like your impressions,” Reed’s voice calls, and Peter answers back, “My impression is that this is pretty weird, even for you guys.”

Johnny’s bedroom door is cracked open, the bathroom door firmly shut. Peter gets a face full of steam when he shoulders it open. He blinks twice, popping open a couple of buttons of his shirt, before he catches sight of the long golden tail with the delicate fins, curled on the bathroom floor. 

“Close the door. You’re letting the steam out.”

“Grouchy,” Peter says, sliding in and shutting the door behind him. The floor is wet; his sneakers squelch. 

“I’m a fish,” Johnny grouches, leaning back against the edge of the tub. His hair is damp and dark gold against his forehead, and the glare he levels Peter’s way is baleful. 

Water soaks through the knees of Peter’s jeans. “Should’ve brought a swimsuit,” he says. The scales on Johnny’s tale are fascinating, shiny and mottled yellow-red. “Franklin’s right, you’re a goldfish.”

The look Johnny gives him isn’t too intimidating, not with the whole drowned rat thing he’s got going on. Sweat drips down Peter’s forehead, gathering in the dip of his collarbone, but if anything Johnny looks chilled. 

“Can’t flame on underwater,” Johnny says when he catches Peter looking. “Can’t get out of the water without feeling like – well, a fish out of it. At least I can’t scald myself.”

“Small mercies,” Peter agrees. “How can I help?”

Johnny reaches out and curls one hot hand around the back of Peter’s neck, fingers stroking beneath the collar of his shirt. “Get over here and Little Mermaid me,” he says, then pulls Peter towards him before he can even ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/57011103767/can-i-hit-you-back-with-the-mermaid-johnnypeters !


	4. Western AU

“Uh-oh,” Miles said, swinging a dishrag over his shoulder. “Here comes trouble.”

Peter had heard the doors swing open, but it was their busiest time of day so he hadn’t bothered to look up. He did now, and what he saw made his heart pound in his chest.

The man standing in the middle of the Black Cat Roadhouse was tall and handsome. His hat, which was tipped over his head at a rakish angle, was singed at the brim.

“Kid,” Peter said, setting a tankard down on the counter with a _thunk_. “You have no idea.”

The man had a gun beneath his arm, but he didn’t unholster it. Instead he grinned like he had the best secret in the whole world and raised his hand with thumb and index-finger held out. A row of bottles behind the bar exploded in a shower of flames and glass. Peter grabbed Miles and pulled them both out of the way.

“Attention lowlifes!” Johnny Storm crowed, eyes sparking. “I’m here looking for my sister’s man!”

Johnny’s sister was Stormy Susan, and while she wasn’t the fastest gun in the west she was certainly the most fearsome. Stormy Susan, men said, could stop a bullet in midair with a wave of her hand.

Peter had seen her do it.

“Miles,” he said, squeezing his shoulder. “Go get Felicia.”

“What are you going to do?” Miles asked him. 

“I’ll think of something,” he said, and waited until Miles scrambled up the back staircase before he pulled himself up behind the bar. He held his hands up in front of him as he stepped forward.

“Storm,” he said.

“Pete,” Johnny returned with a friendly drawl. His nod was polite, but the spark was still in his eyes.

“Why don’t you let these people go, Johnny?” he asked, moving forward.

“Can’t do that,” Johnny said, casting a scornful look at a gang of locals hidden under a table. He kicked the table over, the spurs on his boots flashing. “I got a tip, see? That somebody in this bar knows where Reed is – I intend to find out.”

“Your brother-in-law’s not here,” Peter said. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him back. “So why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Johnny whirled on him.

“That a challenge, Parker?” he asked, leaning in until they were nose-to-nose. Peter tilted his head to the side. He crossed his arms.

“Well, Sparky, I don’t know,” he said. “You got a friend who can make it one?”

Johnny swung out with fists and not with fire, and Peter ducked beneath his arm, grabbed a hold of it by the elbow. He used the momentum to yank Johnny forward, sidestepping him easily and sending him stumbling into the bar.

He cursed, catching himself and turned his best wet cat glower on Peter. Peter held up his hands, gestured _come on_ and cocked his head to the side.

“You’re gonna make me cry, Firefly,” he said. “Is that all you’ve got?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/133831412229/swingsetindecember-damn-u-traincat-you-keep !


	5. Superior Spider-Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: I don't know whether you like getting random fic prompts (if not feel free to ignore this) but you should do one where Johnny was there during the events of Superior Spider-Man and how he'd react to Peter now and him finding out (obvs spideytorch)

Otto was days into his new arrangement when he found Jonathan Storm waiting for him in Parker’s dismal little apartment. He was in the kitchen, unpacking a bag of takeout and humming offkey to himself.

“You’re late,” he said.

“How did you get in here?” Otto demanded.

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe with the key you gave me?” Jonathan said, glancing up and furrowing his eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay?”

Otto felt shaken, to say the least, but apparently it wasn’t strange for Parker to come home to find a waiting member of the Fantastic Four. He tried to school Parker’s - his - features into something neutral, but it was still difficult. Parker’s features seemed naturally inclined towards broadcasting his emotions.

“It was a long day,” he said. Jonathan made a sympathetic noise. “What do you want?”

“Grouchy,” Jonathan said, but the light in his smile didn’t fade. “I just haven’t seen you for a while, that’s all.”

Then he was stepping closer, right into Otto’s space, and before Otto could respond Jonathan sealed their lips together. There was no hesitance, no fumbling - this was a kiss that spoke of familiarity. His - Parker’s - body reacted to Jonathan’s touch. Peter Parker had kissed Jonathan Storm before.

Of course he had. The Human Torch - beautiful and eager, pressing his toned, lithe body against Otto’s (against Parker’s? No, no, his now, Peter Parker was gone) like there was nowhere he’d rather be in the world - fit Parker’s type to a T. Just another empty-headed specimen, and there was Parker, excusing them from the need for any other redeeming feature. Just one more thing to add to his long list of disappointments in the life Parker had carved out for himself.

The Human Torch, at least, might be useful. He’d put him in Reed Richards’ orbit, and the things he might find in the Baxter Building - but no. It was risky, and five minutes in Jonathan Storm’s presence had been more than enough to try to his patience.

How utterly unsuitable, he thought as Storm pulled away.

“Listen, Pete,” Jonathan said. Insipid nickname from an insipid boy - Otto had to fight the urge to sneer. “Reed’s acting kind of weird. He’s planning this trip - we’ll only be gone a few minutes this side, but for us it’ll be a year. I know it’s soon, but with the things you said when I came back, I thought…” he broke off, smile hopeful around the edges, enough to make Otto feel ill. “I thought you might want to come with.”

Otto curled Parker’s strong, long fingers around Jonathan Storm’s wrists and forced him one careful step backwards.

“I think we should talk,” he said.

Twenty minutes later the door slammed shut, sparks in the Torch’s wake, Parker’s ancient carpet scorched. Otto inspected the bottle of wine the Human Torch had left abandoned on the kitchen table - it was a good year, expensive. He poured himself a glass. One more tie cut in the mess Peter Parker had made of his potential.

It might have been amusing, though, to entertain the Human Torch for one night.

* * *

“I should’ve known.”

Johnny’s fingers were locked tight around his, trapping the USB drive against his palm. Peter bent his head to press lips that still didn’t feel quite like his own against Johnny’s knuckles. Johnny’s skin felt too cool - lost his powers, he’d said, but Peter couldn’t get his head around it. Johnny without fire seemed impossible.

What had gone wrong while Peter had been gone?

“Nobody else did,” Peter told him.

“Yeah, but,” Johnny broke off. “I’m - we’re the Fantastic Four. I should’ve - it wasn’t you. Even if I didn’t guess - Skrulls, the Chameleon. I should’ve guessed it wasn’t you.”

Johnny sounded angry, his eyes too bright. Peter felt like he should’ve been angry too, but all there was was a hollow beneath his ribs, like Otto had taken his anger the way he’d taken everything else. Both his lives, his city. Johnny, cast out, right after Peter had gotten him back.

“Hindsight, right?” he said. Johnny shook his head. It was a cool night and when the wind blew hard he shivered despite his sweater. On instinct Peter tried to kiss him; to his relief Johnny met him halfway, his lips chapped and too cold. There was liquor on his breath. Peter’s heart clenched in his chest. “It’s okay.”

Johnny breathed in deep and didn’t tell Peter that it wasn’t, even though they both knew. His hair was longer than Peter had seen it in years, falling over his forehead.

“Anyway,” he said, squeezing Peter’s hand one more time. “All the movies, television and music you missed while you were away.” He looked up and met Peter’s eyes. “Happy new birthday, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/132445238394/i-dont-know-whether-you-like-getting-random-fic


	6. Double Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> May i request an established spideytorch, double date with another marvel couple of your choice~

Johnny knew he was in trouble when Valeria marched herself into the kitchen, grabbed a chair from the table, dragged it over to where he stood at the counter and climbed on top of it to address him.

“One sec, kiddo,” he said, swigging coffee. “Whatever you’re going to say, I’m not caffeinated enough.”

“I’m asking Bentley out on a date,” Val said, and Johnny knocked back the rest of his coffee in one go.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re like, five years old -”

“I’m four and a half,” Val said, wrinkling her nose like Johnny’s the weirdo in the room.

“I’m rounding up,” he said. “Anyway, you, Bentley - little young, don’t you think? Maybe want to wait until you can reach the counter without a chair?”

Val’s stare was withering.

“We’re going to the zoo,” she said. “I want to see the puffins.”

“That’s adorable,” Johnny told her. “There isn’t a memory card your dad can invent that’ll hold all the photos your mom is going to take.”

Val made a gagging noise, sticking out her tongue. “That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you, Uncle Johnny. I want you to chaperone us.”

Johnny burst out laughing.

* * *

 

“Do you like my hat?”

Peter snorted, reaching up to tweak the brim of Johnny’s Spider-Man baseball cap before he tugged on the hem of his own shirt. The light blue highlighted the strength in his shoulders and the white four stretched tight across his chest. “Sure. We match.”

“We look like tourists,” Johnny told him.

“That was sort of the point,” Peter said. Johnny pulled his sunglasses down just enough to wink, complete with one single spark, then settled them back in place. Valeria and Bentley were just ahead of them, Val’s blonde hair tucked up into her pink hat and her matching sunglasses firmly in place. “Selling the normal people thing.”

Central Park in summer, all sunshine and green trees, seemed very far away from the rest of the world. The back of his hand brushed against Peter’s every other step.

“This is cute,” Peter said, gesturing to Val and Bentley. “So when does the death ray come in?”

“You joke, but I made her pinkie swear this doesn’t end with a trip to Uncle Vic’s,” Johnny said, holding out his little finger.

Peter laughed, tilting his face up towards the sun. Just up ahead the kids took a detour, clambering up on top of a large rock. Valeria stood at the top with her hands on her hips, like the tiny ruler of all she surveyed. If she didn’t try and take over a large nation before her twelfth birthday then Johnny owed Ben a hundred bucks.

“You know,” Peter said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “The Natural History Museum is right over -”

“Puffins, Pete,” Johnny cut him off.

* * *

 

Bentley spent ten minutes to the second with his nose pressed up against the puffin exhibit. Val stood patiently next to him for the first five before she stepped back to stand with Johnny.

“You don’t care about the puffins, do you,” he said.

“They’re okay,” she said.

“Because I’m no super genius,” Johnny continued as if she hadn’t answered, “but I’m thinking Bentley’s the one who actually wanted to come here.”

She sniffed and shrugged, admitting nothing. He settle his hand on top of her head, shoving her hat down over her eyes. She squeaked, shoving him back.

“My lips are sealed,” he said, laughing when she scowled up at him. “That was sweet, Val.”

She readjusted her hat huffily and stalked back to the exhibit.

“Don’t tease her,” Peter said, coming up behind him. “I don’t want to be collateral damage when she strikes back.”

Johnny slung an arm over his shoulders, tugging him against his side. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from my tiny diabolical niece. Where’d you go, anyway?”

“Just wanted to check out what else there was,” Peter said, letting his hand rest at the small of Johnny’s back. “I haven’t been here in years. Can you believe they don’t have any spiders?”

Johnny wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response.

Bentley finally looked away from the window long enough to fix them with an eerily intent stare and ask, “Do their eyebrows really fall off?”

“Gross,” Johnny said right as Peter exclaimed, “Yeah!”

“Nerd,” Johnny said, shoving him forward. Peter flashed him a grin, crossing the room to go talk to the kids. A woman nearby was looking at them, and it took Johnny a second to realize that she hadn’t recognized him and Val - she was just fighting the urge to laugh at him. He smiled in her direction and said, “I’m outnumbered.”

“Cute family,” she said.

Johnny opened his mouth - to what, explain? - but her kid was tugging at her skirt and pointing at the exit, and she left with a wave before he could say anything. He glanced back over to where Peter was kneeling down next to the kids, his hands animated and eyes bright as he talked. Both the kids were listening to him, Bentley stroking his chin and raising his eyebrows. Johnny didn’t even want to know what was going on in his head.

On second glance, Johnny wasn’t surprised that Bentley, with his unruly brown hair and sharp, intelligent features, passed for Peter’s son.

Cute family, alright, but Johnny was still going to catch up on his e-mail while he waited for Peter to finish explaining the intricacies of puffin eyebrow tufts.

One text from Sue read: _you’re too quiet. did they feed you to the polar bear?_

 _it was the seals,_ Johnny wrote back. _RIP me._

“Hey Storm!” Peter called, standing by the exit with Bentley up on his shoulders and Valeria by his side. “Poison dart frogs! Hop to it!”

* * *

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said when Val cornered him in the kitchen for a second time late that night. She raised her arms expectantly and he sighed before lifting her up onto the counter. “Kiddo, I’m absolutely positive you’re supposed to be in bed right now.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said, feet kicking against the cabinets. “I had fun. I know Bentley did too.”

“Mmhmm, no problem,” Johnny said, going back to hunting through the fridge. Did Ben seriously think labeling the leftovers with his name was any real deterrent? “How’d the first date go then? Sparks flying? Do I get to walk you down the aisle or is that right reserved for your teddy bear?”

“I think Dad would have a problem with either,” Val said primly. She ducked her head, hair falling into her face, and finally admitted, “It wasn’t really a date.”

“I’m actually not surprised to hear that,” Johnny said. “Considering you’re four and a half.”

“Bentley’s never been to the zoo,” Val said. “I needed someone to take us. And Mom fusses, and Dad doesn’t mean to, but he reminds Bentley of the Wizard, and Uncle Ben always shouts at the monkeys.” Johnny snorted. “I thought the date story would sell you.”

“You can just ask me next time,” he said. “You don’t have to invent a story, Val. Honesty’s the best policy.”

She gave him one of those looks that made him vaguely worried for the future of the planet.

“So if I told you I was honestly hoping you’d let me have that second dessert Mom said no about…?”

Johnny shut the refrigerator door. “I’d say nice try, kiddo.”

* * *

 

Peter was dangling from the ceiling, channel flipping, when Johnny made it back to the living room.

“You look happy,” he said. “Val give up the star-crossed tots ghost?”

“Yep,” Johnny said. “She told me she doesn’t think she’ll date until after she terraforms her first planet. I’m the happiest uncle alive.”

Peter dropped onto the couch, gracefully flipping himself over onto Johnny. Johnny threw one leg over Peter’s and grabbed the remote from his hand. “Good. Though watching you squirm every time you thought they were going to hold hands was pretty funny.”

“My five-year-old niece!” Johnny said. “Canoodling by the puffins!”

“Don’t say canoodling,” Peter said. Johnny’s hand slipped up underneath his shirt, fingers splayed out against the small of his back. “It sounds wrong.”

“Canoodling,” Johnny said, stressing each syllable. Peter groaned, putting his face down against Johnny’s collarbone.

“Good day, though,” Peter said. The brush of his lips against Johnny’s skin still made him shiver a little. “Kids seemed happy. Nothing tried to eat us.”

“What more can you ask for?” Johnny snorted. “Yeah. Good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/131925484784/anonymous-asked-may-i-request-an-established !


	7. The Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Think you can write a ficlet with Wyatt approving of peter/johnny relationship? Pre or post marriage~

“Wyatt’s in the city,” Johnny said, yawning, as he dropped into the seat next to Peter at the kitchen table. “He’s dropping by later.”

Peter nearly choked on his breakfast. “Wyatt, as in Wingfoot? As in your super buff, weirdly protective BFF?”

“Ye-es?” Johnny said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you nervous? Why are you nervous? You’ve met. You’ve dangled me off a building together.”

“I wasn’t dating you then,” Peter said. “Also he’s just. Very tall.”

“You can lift a city bus over your head,” Johnny told him.

“Yes, but I do it from a normal starting height,” Peter said, pushing his chair back. “Okay, I’m late, I’m late for a very important date with a man probably dressed like a giant animal.”

“Hope he puts out,” Johnny said.

“Children present, Torch, thank you,” Peter said, but he bent to kiss him chastely before he left. If Johnny leaned a little out of his chair to watch him walk away, well, you had to enjoy the little things in life.

“So when’s Wyatt stopping by, anyhow?” Jennifer asked from across the table, surrounded by her adoring moloid crowd. She was checking her lipstick in a compact mirror.

“Sometime this afternoon,” Johnny said. “Why?”

“I need to know if I have time to pick up that skirt he likes,” Jen said, winking. “Okay, I’m off too. Don’t break anything, kids.”

The moloids all nodded and waited patiently until she was out of the room before they broke into anguished wailing. Turg led the cry, moaning, “The Wingfoot returns! The woman we love pitches woo to another!”

“The Jen,” Mik continued mournfully. “The Jen and Wingfoot will make like the pirates in the ripped bodices on the cover of the book underneath the Ben’s bed.”

“Glory to the Ben’s taste in literature!” Tong said, wringing her hands. “Heartbreak, my brothers! The heart breaks!”

“This is a madhouse,” Johnny said, watching with pride as Tong collapsed in a truly dramatic sprawl over Jen’s abandoned chair.

* * *

 

Peter swung in a few hours after Wyatt’s arrival and reappeared maskless and damp from the shower and looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Nice to meet you properly, Wyatt,” he said, sticking his hand out. Wyatt looked at it with raised eyebrows.

“You know we’ve met, right?” he said, shaking Peter’s hand.

“Not face-to-actual-face though,” Peter said, grinning a little self-consciously. Johnny was going to choke on the awkward. The small talk continued on until Peter excused himself to the kitchen. Johnny watched him go with narrowed eyes.

“Sometimes he’s normal,” he told Wyatt.

“I like him,” Wyatt said, grinning.

“Well if he keeps staring at you like that I think you’ve probably got a shot,” Johnny said. Wyatt laughed.

“I’ll let you keep him,” he said. “You look good. Better.”

Johnny shrugged one shoulder, lighting up his fingers one by one before extinguishing them. “Having my powers back helps.”

“Maybe, but I think we both know it wasn’t just the powers,” Wyatt said, eyes soft with concern. “I know how hard it’s been for you since - since you came back. I was really worried. He was really worried, too. I could see it on him even with that mask on.”

“I know,” Johnny admitted. “I know Pete was.”

“Know I’m what?” Peter asked, dropping back down besides Johnny. He stretched out his arm behind Johnny, resting it on his shoulders, the way they’d both done for years.

“Bringing me another drink,” Johnny told him.

“I missed that memo,” Peter said.

“Johnny and I were talking about a repeat of the last time we all hung out,” Wyatt said, grinning. It was tension-breaking - Peter started looking more like himself and less like an anxious rabbit. “What do you say? Want to find another building to dangle him upside down off?”

“Sounds like a party,” Peter said. “And he can fly now, so we don’t have to be nice. What do you think, Sparky? Empire State Building sound good?”

“I think I liked it better when you were weirdly afraid of him,” Johnny told him, scowling.

“You were afraid of me?” Wyatt asked Peter, amused. Peter spluttered, aiming a nasty look Johnny’s way.

“You’re just,” he said to Wyatt, gesturing up and down. “You’re just very tall, okay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/139123871999/think-you-can-write-a-ficlet-with-wyatt-approving !


	8. Secret Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: YAH NAH MAN BUT LIKE. PETER REMEMBERS VAL. VAL DOESNT REMEMBER HIM. CAN YOU IMAGINE THE FF NOT REMEMBERING SPIDERMAN.

“I saw Val,” Peter said, hand to Reed’s shoulder. He didn’t want to look at Reed’s face; he didn’t know what would be worse to see - hope, or resignation. “She said to tell you your work sucks.”

The side of Reed’s mouth quirked up, beard bristling. “She’s very critical, my daughter.” 

Peter squeezed Reed’s shoulder. “She, ah - she didn’t know, though. Who you were. She didn’t recognize me.” 

The tiny, twitchy smile didn’t fade. Peter’s already broken heart somehow found the strength to continue on aching. “Not unexpected.”

“And she thinks Doom is her dad,” Peter said, ever the bearer of bad news. 

The shadow that fell over Reed’s face was more tired than anything else. 

“Well,” he said, toying with another drone. “That’s certainly a road we’ve been down before. A little originality from Victor might be too much to ask. But she looked well? Val?”

“Diabolical as ever,” Peter said, pulling up a seat. When Reed passed him a drone he took it without question. “She’s okay. She’s Val - she’s confused and suspicious, so she’s gonna work it out for herself.” 

“Thank you,” Reed said, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Hey, no,” Peter said. “I was so happy, Reed. I thought…”

He didn’t have to continue that sentence: he knew they both remembered in crystal clarity - the sickening lurch of the raft splitting apart, Sue and Ben and Johnny and, god, the kids, falling away from them. Peter hadn’t been able to shut his eyes since without seeing Reed’s hand stretched out towards them as they faded away. His stomach churned, his throat burned. 

“I wish I could find the others,” he confessed. He was restless all over - keeping his fingers busy working with Reed’s drones did nothing to calm his nerves, and he could feel the other Reed lurking somewhere around the corner, creepy gaze fixed on them. “If I could just talk to Sue or Ben or, god, get it through Johnny’s thick head…”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that one,” Reed said, and when he looked up Peter knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “Did you know there used to be no day in this world?”

“What?” Peter said, startled into a laugh. “So you’re telling me that on top of making himself God King of the Last World Standing and curating one massively creepy statue garden, Doom, what - made himself a star?”

“Not made,” Reed said. Then, quietly, “I don’t think that’s a star, Peter. There are no stars anymore.” 

“Of course it’s a star, it’s a big ball of fire in the - oh,” Peter said, mind catching up to his mouth. “Oh. Oh God.” He pushed himself up, stumbling a little, grace failing him in his rush to get back outside. He threw the hatch open and tilted head all the way back, vision burning. His eyes blurred, spots appearing, but then, there - he wasn’t imagining that. There was a man in the sun, burning.

He sank down on his haunches, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. “Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Reed confirmed, coming up behind him.

Peter’s vision blurred. He pressed his palms over his eyes, but he couldn’t stop doing the math: Johnny burning all day, every day, for - how long? Years. He added up days in his head, and then hours. Johnny, burning for all of them. “What do we do, Reed?”

Reed was quiet for a long moment. When Peter’s vision stopped swimming he looked over his shoulder to find him standing there, shoulders straight, goggles on, staring straight at the sun. “What else can we do, Peter? We fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/138644164329/yah-nah-man-but-like-peter-remembers-val-val !


	9. Things You Said After You Kissed Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Things You Said After You Kissed Me and spideytorch if you don't mind!

“Oh,” Peter breathed, hand delicately cupped to Johnny’s neck, close enough their lips still brushed. Johnny’s lips tingled, electric. “That was a huge mistake.”

The way he said it - quietly, full of awe - made Johnny start laughing, which made Peter start laughing, a horrible cycle: the both of them sitting soaked through by Pier 4 after the almost end of the world, laughing at each other.

“Just,” Peter said, smiling wide. He’d pushed the mask up over the bridge of his nose before he’d kissed Johnny, and all Johnny could see in the gloom was the curve of his wild smile, the edge of his teeth. “Absolutely, that was the worst thing I could’ve done right now.”

“Yeah, you fucked up,” Johnny agreed, knocking their noses together. Every feeling in his chest was a tangled, giddy mess. 

“Yep,” Peter said. “Sorry, my fault. Won’t happen again.” 

“And now he’s a liar,” Johnny said, trying for grave but cracking up again at the end of it. Peter snickered; he slid his hand to the back of Johnny’s neck, tugging his head down so he could kiss Johnny’s forehead, Hudson-soaked hair be damned.

“Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding very sorry at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/143863445444/14-and-spideytorch-if-you-dont-mind !


	10. Things You Said When You Were Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shinykari asked: For the meme: 11 things you said when you were drunk for Peter and Johnny (obviously)

“Hey, pretty boy,” Peter said, falling backwards across Johnny’s lap. “What’s a guy like you doing in a corner like this?”

He beamed up at him, hair sticking up, flush high in his cheeks. His shirt was untucked, the top two buttons undone, and Johnny wasn’t even going to ask where his jacket had gone. Last Johnny saw him, he and Jan Van Dyne were trying to figure out how the Lindy Hop went for the express purpose of annoying Captain America. 

Johnny was never deleting the photo of lanky Peter getting dipped by tiny Jan off his phone.

“Are you drunk?” Johnny asked. He’d never actually seen Peter drunk, he didn’t think, but he knew what it looked like. “How many have you had?”

Peter’s nose wrinkled. “Like - two drinks?”

“That’s hilarious,” Johnny said, flicking him on the forehead. 

“Seriously,” Peter said, proving that even drunk, he knew Johnny better than almost anyone. “What are you doing all the way back here?” 

“Just thinking,” Johnny said.

Out on the dance floor Reed and Sue were still whirling around, hands clasped, eyes soft. They’d been apprehensive at first about the surprise wedding anniversary party Jen and Jan had thrown, but soon gotten into the spirit of things.

Four hours gone, and still no crashing supervillains. Johnny counted it a good night.

Peter hummed. “Wow. Does it hurt?” 

“Jerk,” Johnny said, laughing. Peter clumsily patted him on the chest. “I’m just happy for them, that’s all.”

“Quietly,” Peter said, eyes drifting shut. “In the dark. By yourself.”

“I’m having a moment,” he said. He didn’t know how to tell Peter he was thinking of other dances, other anniversaries that had never happened. Ben and Alicia were on the dance floor, too. 

Enough years had passed that Johnny could look at Alicia and not feel a twinge, a cold-hot mixed rush of longing for someone else. Most nights, anyway.

A toast to Lyja, he thought. Wherever she was. 

“I think I miss being married,” he admitted when Peter’s fingers danced, spider-quick, across his wrist. 

It was possible Peter wasn’t the only drunk one.

“You wanna get married?” Peter said, eyes still closed. “We can get married.”

“What?” Johnny said, laughing.

“Give me five minutes to figure out which way the floor is again, and one of those little napkin holder rings,” Peter said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’ve got a proposal that’ll knock your socks off. Dearest Jonathan-”

“No,” Johnny said, laughing. “I say, no.”

“The lit match of my heart! The smoldering embers of my love!” Peter said, waving a hand. “The bonfire of my soul.”

“Two drinks?” Johnny said, catching his waving hand and squeezing.

“Maybe three,” Peter admitted.

“Uh-huh,” Johnny said. He dragged his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “You can ask me again when you’re hungover, you sad, sad lightweight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/143867298244/for-the-meme-11-things-you-said-when-you-were !


	11. Things You Said With Too Many Miles Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> themandylion asked: Spideytorch, #15. (Plot-twist: multiple dimensions mean it's actually too many Miles??)

“Have I mentioned I hate alternate universe stuff?”

“Pssshh,” Peter said, swinging out over an alternate New York City that looked more like Venice. As long as it had buildings, he thought to himself, and adjusted his hold on the squirming kid hoisted over his shoulder. “You love alternate universe stuff, who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Fun alternate universe stuff!” Johnny replied, annoyance loud and clear despite the slightly static-y connection. “This is babysitting.” 

“This is search and rescue,” Peter corrected. To the version of Miles he had caught up - no spider-bite, no powers, but a nose ring, Mama Morales would weep - he said, “Still headed in the right direction, kid?”

“Three blocks that way,” Miles said, pointing.

“You got it,” Peter told him. “Friendly neighborhood taxi service, away!”

He flipped a little, just enough to make the kid squeak. It was strange to hear when the Miles he was used to was so fearless in the air. 

“You’re the worst,” Johnny’s voice said in his ear.

“Thanks, Matchstick. Love you too,” Peter said. “You put the one in technofuture law school back where he came from yet?”

“Done and done,” Johnny replied. His voice fuzzed on ‘and’ - Peter found it a little comforting that even Reed couldn’t deliver crystal clear sound across universes. “Just waiting for my ride home.”

Peter landed on the roof Miles pointed to, depositing him gently on the ground. He took him by the shoulders and said, “No more jumping through weird portals again, okay? I don’t care what girls named Gwen say.” 

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” Miles said with a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get home to your mom,” Peter told him. He waited until the kid had slipped inside to stretch, arms high above his head. “Ugh. Okay, let Ben know I’m ready to get out of New Venice over here. I think I saw a gondola.” 

“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie,” Johnny hummed. 

“Terrible,” Peter told him. “Awful.” 

“You love it,” Johnny told him. Peter sighed, fond, and collapsed into a lotus position on the ground. “Hey, guess what I’m not wearing.”

“Ugh,” Peter said, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/143971355209/spideytorch-15-plot-twist-multiple-dimensions !


	12. Things You Said Through Your Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pariahsdream asked: Things you said through your teeth (Johnny/Pete if you're still taking these)
> 
> Established relationship set during Robinson's run when Johnny's lost his powers.

“Ow,” Peter hissed from between his teeth. “Ow ow ow.”

“Don’t be a baby. I’ve seen you walk off having a building dropped on you,” Johnny said, dabbing at a scrape over Peter’s eyebrow. Peter, sitting on the closed toilet seat, bore it less than stoically. “What’d you do, drag yourself face-first through a gravel lot?”

“Something like that,” Peter muttered. He slipped an arm around Johnny, tugging him closer, sliding his hand up the back of Johnny’s shirt. Johnny’s skin was cool against his own; Peter wasn’t used to it yet. Maybe he’d never get used to it.

Johnny shifted away from him like he knew what Peter was thinking. Peter let his hand fall away, touching his own split lip.

“Well, you’ll probably live,” Johnny said. He leaned back, out of Peter’s reach, to shuffle through the collection of bandaids in the first aid kit. He skipped right over Franklin and Val’s collection of superheroes and cartoon princesses, right to the plain beige. Peter slid his palms over his eyes; Johnny was mad at him, if he was passing up the opportunity plaster Peter’s face with his own logo. 

“What’s the good news?” Peter joked, tipping his head back. Johnny smoothed the bandage over his forehead, lingering. Peter took his hand. “Talk to me, Torch.”

“You left me on the goddamn sidewalk, Pete,” Johnny said. “Standing there holding your clothes like a useless moron while you swung off –”

“What was I supposed to do, not go?” Peter replied, groaning.

Johnny tugged his hand away. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just - I hate this.”

“I know,” Peter said, reaching for him. Johnny let himself be pulled forward, but it wasn’t the usual push-pull of their embraces. Peter hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Johnny’s slickly expensive jeans anyway. “Hey. You’re not useless. I definitely needed someone to hold my clothes.”

It was the wrong time to make a joke. Johnny stared down at him, jaw tight and eyes furious, and Peter regretted everything. Him and his stupid big mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, letting his head fall forward to rest against Johnny’s stomach. “I got tossed through a building, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Johnny’s hand came up to card through his hair. “I lost your socks on purpose.”

Peter breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I know. Can we go to bed? I think I need to sleep this off.”

“You go,” Johnny said. “I’m going to go out for a while.”

“Where?” Peter asked. “It’s like 2 AM.”

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… out.” 

Peter swallowed, bitter. “Don’t be long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/143950819849/things-you-said-through-your-teeth-johnnypete-if !


	13. Things You Said After It Was Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adamsgirl42 asked: I realize now 23 is fill in the blank and I meant 22. *facepalms*  
> Things You Said After It Was Over
> 
> A what-if featuring Peter in the Standoff: Welcome to Pleasant Hill storyline.

“I’ve seen you naked,” Peter said, looking stunned. “Oh my god, I have been naked with you.”

It was the understatement of the century.

One minute, this was what Peter knew: he was a mild-mannered junior high teacher, happily engaged to Chet, a yoga instructor he loved enough that he had only laughed in his face about his name the one time. Life was perfect.

The next, this was what Peter knew to be the truth: he was CEO of Parker Industries and Spider-Man besides, and he was definitely was not and never had been engaged to Johnny Storm, the Human Torch. Life was a disaster. 

“Great way to sum up the mindfuck, Spidey,” Johnny said, standing naked and singed in front of their IKEA-purchased chest of drawers. He dug out a shirt. Peter tried really hard not to stare at his ass, not that there seemed to be any point now.

Politeness, maybe.

They’d had sex in the kitchen that morning, complaining about linoleum, Johnny’s hot mouth on his and Johnny’s fingers skating down his back.

Peter needed a cold shower and a brick wall to put his head through.

“That’s your face?” Rogue said, standing in the doorway. She was holding a gasoline can, which Peter guessed explained the singed part of Johnny’s whole naked deal. She waved it in Peter's general direction. “Really?”

“This cannot get worse,” Peter said.

“Oh my god,” Miles said when they met up again, promptly making things worse. “You guys were gonna get _married_.”

“We’re gonna have one of those talks about what happens in Vegas,” Peter told him. Johnny shot him a look Peter couldn’t read, not that he tried very hard. He couldn’t look at Johnny, in his terrible wolf shirt and his truly tiny orange shorts, not without remembering what he’d thought he had.

He swallowed hard and tuned back to the plan. It was over now.


	14. Things You Said At 1AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> underroos asked: things you said at 1 am!! (where johnny has taken to calling peter in the middle of the night and for some reason beyond him peter still answers lmao)(or whatever you want really - that's just what i came up with on the spot hahaha)

Peter’s actually in bed for a change - it’s been a long couple days, chasing after muggers and murderers, culminating in a showdown with the Lizard that leaves a bitter taste lingering - when his phone rings.

There’s nothing to snap you from pleasant drifting to red alert awake like an unexpected phone call in the middle of the night. Peter fumbles for his phone, lost somewhere in the sheets, ice in his veins: nobody ever calls at late at night unless something’s wrong.

“Heeeeey, there he is!” Johnny shouts in his ear.

Peter amends his previous statement: nobody ever calls late at night unless something’s wrong, unless they are Johnny Storm.

He needs to sort out some ringtones. Maybe the JAWS theme. Maybe the Darth Vader music. He’s got options.

“What time’s it?” Peter mutters, scrubbing a hand up through his hair. His fingers catch on knots. It’s not a great week for his personal appearance, either.

“I don’t know, not late,” Johnny says. He calls to someone else - he’s at a party, Peter’s pretty sure, because he can hear pounding music and someone’s high, pretty laugh. Life of the rich and maskless. Peter’s too tired to be envious. “One? It’s one.”

“Urgh,” Peter says, slumping back against the pillows. He squints at his dark ceiling. “And why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“Because!” Johnny says, laughing bright and free. He’s definitely had a couple of drinks. Peter rolls over onto his side, trapping the phone between his pillow and his face. Maybe Johnny won’t notice if he just falls back asleep. “Pete, come on!”

“Pete, come on, what?” Peter mumbles.

“You seriously don’t know why?” Johnny says. “Peter Parker. It’s your birthday.”

Peter cracks his eyes back open. “No, it’s…”

But then he thinks about it. It’s the right month, yeah, and when he extricates a hand to count off on his fingers… “Oh.” 

“Uh-huh,” Johnny says, sounding infinitely patient.

“It’s my birthday,” Peter repeats, numbly.

“As of an hour ago, smart guy,” Johnny says. “So. Happy birthday, Pete.”

Peter pushes his hand up into his hair again, slides it down to scrub at his face. He presses his smile against his palm. “Thanks, man.” 

“No problem,” Johnny says. There’s a rustle as he pulls the phone away from his ear. “Everyone! Hey everyone!” There’s an excited chorus. “It’s my man Peter’s birthday! You know what that means!”

“Oh no,” Peter says, right before what sounds like a hundred drunk celebrities and starlets start singing the happy birthday song at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/143864951524/things-you-said-at-1-am-where-johnny-has-taken !


	15. Things You Said When I Was Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 9. things you said when i was crying Spideytorch? (if your still taking prompts)

It took them an embarrassingly long time to crack the message. It was Peter’s fault - codebreaking had never been his thing, and besides he was ashamed to admit he hadn’t really thought it was anything - just flashes of light from some far off place in the universe. Parker Industries’ satellites picked out a lot of weird stuff out there in the dark. Most of it was nothing.

“Maybe it’s Galactus trying to book a reservation,” he’d said.

“Let the people who routinely deal with Galactus make the Galactus jokes,” Johnny said, sharp chin planted on Peter’s shoulder and arms wrapped around his waist. He’d sighed. “Please? I can’t do the math.” 

“Not sure I can, either,” Peter said, eyebrows drawn together as he worked. 

“Of course you can, smart guy,” Johnny said, squeezing. 

So Peter did, working on it when he could spare a second over the next few days. In bed, mostly, when he couldn’t sleep - when dreams of getting lost in Otto’s memories kept him up even with Johnny snoring softly beside him, sprawled out across the bed like a starfish.

Peter balanced his tablet across his drawn up knees and picked at the problem until he either couldn’t see straight, or it was starting to make sense. One or the other.

He elbowed Johnny awake just before dawn.

“Look,” he said, pointing. “What does that look like to you?”

“Huh?” Johnny asked blearily, head against Peter’s shoulder.

“Because it kind of looks like instructions to me,” Peter said without pause, fingertips tracing over lines. “Instructions for what, I’m not sure, but there is a distinct tone here.”

“Looks like Val,” Johnny murmured.

Peter glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “I remember Val being more child-sized, personally.”

“No, just - look,” Johnny said, pointing. Peter skimmed over the passages Johnny picked out, noting the condescending tone, the messages within messages, precocious but genius. A pragmatic contrast to Reed’s elegant thoughts.

“Oh. Oh my god,” Peter said, wild grin breaking across his face. “You’re right. It’s from Val.”

He turned to look at Johnny and faltered - he’d known Johnny half his life, and he’d seen him misty-eyed and angry to the point of near tears, but never like this. Silent tears slipped down his face as he raised his hand to touch the last line. 

_Come get us._

“Peter,” Johnny said, smiling through the tears. Peter, always a sympathetic crier, swallowed thickly. His own eyes prickled at the corners. “It’s my niece. They’re alive.”

He laughed out loud, choked and wet and absolutely the best sound Peter had ever heard. The tablet clattered to the floor as he grabbed at Peter, face against Peter’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Peter said, shutting his own eyes against the sting. “Okay. Who’s going to tell Hot Doom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/144072527589/9-things-you-said-when-i-was-crying-spideytorch !


	16. Fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: OKAY BUT WHAT IF JOHNNY CHANGES THE SPELLING (AND SOME GRAMMAR) AGAIN AND TELLS PETER HE'S BEING ~RUDE~ IN ABOUT 27 PLANETS
> 
> Based on this post: _my boyfriend said he was gonna email me this ~fantasy~ about us, so i’m expecting a dirty email and he just sent it and it starts off with five paragraphs of worldbuilding_ and my tags: #johnny writes the five paragraphs of world building #peter sends it back spell and grammar checked

Peter stretched his arms high above his head, enjoying the sunlight as well as a man in full body spandex could. Pigeons fluttered by and the Mister Softee jingle played a block away. It was a beautiful day and nothing was going to ruin it.

Then his phone went off. Somewhere on the other side of the fountain, a baby started to scream. The mother glared at him.

So much for his afternoon.

_check ur e-mail, nerd._

Peter spared a brief eyeroll. _Why?_

_Bc I sent u something,_ Johnny replied. _Duh._

“Men, am I right?” he asked the still glaring mother.

“You can text through those gloves?” she asked.

_Need more detail,_ he said. _Last time you sent me something by e-mail it turned out to be an alien._

_not an alien!! it’s fun,_ Johnny said. Then two seconds later, Peter’s worst nightmare, five words, accompanied by the arrow through the heart and eggplant emojis: _it’s about us. it’s hot._

“Oh my god,” Peter said out loud, throwing the hand not holding his phone up. “Why is he like this?!”

Mother and child slowly inched away from him. Peter huffed a sigh, hunched his shoulders and wrote back. _Space is getting to you. I’ll read it when I’m at home, thanks._

_fine,_ Johnny wrote. _ttyl ben just insulted the emperor’s mother._

Peter got home south of midnight, dug around in his fridge for leftovers that didn’t have anything growing on them, then settled down with Johnny’s e-mail. The fact that Johnny had thought up some fantasy thing didn’t entirely surprise him – their relationship included more “so how much of your suit are you wearing” phone calls than he could count – so much as the part where Johnny had bothered to write it down.

He loved the man, but he lacked a certain talent with the written word.

He steeled himself for dick pics and descriptions of positions impossible even for Peter, possibly on Jonah’s desk, or, worse yet, something with alien tentacles, and opened the e-mail. The little thrill of anticipation meant nothing; a whole week without Johnny just meant that Peter was bored, and lonely, and spending too much time with that one cologne ad Johnny had done a year ago, the one with the mustang and the distinct lack of clothes.

He read the first line, mouth full of chicken lo mein, and then scrolled down. And down again. A little more. He scrolled back up and did it again.

Johnny had written a full five paragraphs without any mention of genitalia or the word “throbbing” or anything. At no point was there any loving if crude description of Peter’s backside. No, it was just five paragraphs of detailed notes on their lives if they’d been born royal gladiators on the colonized moon of Lyocles VI.

Peter, more thankful than ever for Reed’s concept of a long distance plan, called Johnny.

“Heeeey!” Johnny said when he picked up. “Hey, hi, nobody’s dead!”

“That’s… comforting?” Peter said. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, extremely flippant for a man who had answered the phone with “nobody’s dead.” “What’s up?”

“I need you to explain the e-mail,” Peter said. He could hear Johnny brighten across the line.

“Did you read it?” he said. “What do you think? I put a lot of effort into it.”

“I’m seeing that,” Peter said, skipping down to paragraph three again where Johnny had diverged to talk about local fauna and flora. “What I’m trying to figure out is why. Did you lick anything Reed told you not to?”

“You lick one alien toad,” Johnny grumbled. “What? You don’t like it?”

“You talked about ice cliffs for two hundred words,” Peter said. “Who are you and what have you done with my airhead?”

Johnny sighed long and low, like Peter’s lack of enthusiasm was deeply disappointing and not a totally valid reaction when he’d expected a badly written but enthusiastic paragraph about his dick and ended up with ice cliffs. 

“I was going to write the part where Jonathanus and Parkerthor lick wine off each other and bang in the arena,” he said, “but then there was a minor political coup to deal with, so I didn’t have time. I’ll send it tomorrow.”

“Do you have to?” Peter asked, before Johnny’s words caught up to him. “Wait, a minor political what? Where are you right now? Are you still at the palace?”

There was a sound like an air siren in the distance.

“Johnny?” Peter said, to the tune of Ricky Ricardo’s _Luuuucy?_ Johnny displayed no repentance.

“Whoops, that’s us,” he said. “Gotta go! Write more later! Love you!”

Then he hung up, leaving Peter scowling at his phone. He was too keyed up to sleep now, what with Johnny off probably doing stupid and dangerous things a whole galaxy away, where Peter couldn’t do them with him.

He’d go back out swinging, he thought. At the very least it would pass the time.

First, though – he copied and pasted the body of Johnny’s e-mail into a reply and then settled down to work.

\--

Johnny called him at eight in the morning. Peter, who had been in bed for exactly two hours, groped blearily for the phone.

“Parker’s Pizzas, thirty minutes or it’s free,” he mumbled.

“You rewrote my thing?” Johnny said, sounding furious. “You REWROTE MY THING and you didn’t even have the good grace to add sex?!”

“Hey, you weird ice planet sex fantasy blue balled me first,” Peter said, rolling onto his back. “How’s your coup going?”

“That’s old news,” Johnny said, like he hadn’t brought it up seven hours before. “I can’t believe you! I worked hard on that.”

“And yet you couldn’t run spell check,” Peter said, jaw cracking around a yawn. “I was helping. I’m a helper.”

“They were alien words!” Johnny said. “You don’t know how they’re supposed to be spelled!”

“I was talking about when you spelled ‘peninsula’ with three n’s and two l’s, but whatever,” Peter said. “I still don’t think any alien language should have that many apostrophes in the middle of their words.”

“You’re small-minded and culturally insensitive,” Johnny snapped. “You don’t know how to appreciate true literature or a labor of love.”

“I’m still on the phone,” Peter said. “How is that not a labor of love?” 

Johnny made a disgusted noise.

Peter dragged a hand over his face. “Everyone still alive?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “We’re back on the ship. I locked myself in the bathroom so I could yell at you.”

“Romantic,” Peter mumbled. “So you’ll be home by tonight?”

“Unless Reed finds anything weird and makes us stop,” Johnny said.

“Put blinders on him,” Peter suggested. “Like a horse. Or make Ben sit on him.”

“Okay. I promise,” Johnny said. There was a long pause and then he said, “So hey. As long as I’m in here – how much of that suit are you still wearing?”

Peter stifled a fond grin with one palm and started talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/144623706449/okay-but-what-if-johnny-changes-the-spelling-and !


	17. Spider Siblings, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> swingsetindecember posted:  
> where a superhero has a twin with no powers who gets called up to stand in for them when people are closing in on their alter ego. their twin is really tired of it. like dude, just tell your girlfriend you’re a superhero! if i have to go on one more date as you, i will tell your nemesis about your fear of clowns! #traincat #fic idea #peter and his clones

You can trust in family, Uncle Ben always used to say. Family will take you in when no one else will. "If you’re ever in trouble, Peter," he'd say, "you can rely on your family."

“Fuck no,” Kaine said, rolling over.

It was possible, Peter thought, not for the first time, that Uncle Ben had been something of an idealist.

“It’ll be like an hour!” Peter said, raising his voice on purpose - Kaine was out the night before with his med school friend Donald and Donald’s boyfriend Wally and Peter knew Kaine had had a single drink and was now completely hungover. He had the only 200lb lightweight in the world for a brother. “I just need you to put on the suit and -”

“Did you think when I said, fuck no, I meant, yes, Peter, please fucking talk my ear off about it?” Kaine demanded, yanking the pillow over his head. “Why can’t Ben do it?”

Ben, sitting serenely across the room, raised his blond head to smile apologetically. “I would -”

“Thank you,” Peter said.

“- But I can’t,” Ben finished. He at least had the good graces to look guilty. “I have a date.” 

“You have a date?” Peter spit out. “I’m about to be hoisted by my own petard, and you have a date? How do you have a date?”

“Is she hot?” Jessica asked without looking up from her phone.

“Well, I’m the charming brother,” Ben said, refusing to answer Jessica’s question. “Also, last time I put on the tights, Johnny Storm tried to kiss me.”

“I- You- WHAT?” Peter demanded as Jessica chimed in with, “Oh my god, SAME, but it was dark, so I’m not sure he noticed the, y’know, breasts.”

She gestured to her chest.

“Never do that again,” Peter begged her.

“Secret’s safe, is what I’m saying,” Jessica said, going back to her phone. “I can’t either, by the way. I’m seeing Kitty.” 

Peter groaned, and turned his gaze back on Kaine’s prone form. He only had to wait thirty seconds before Kaine, cringing, flipped himself over with murder in his eyes.

“No!” he said. “No, no, fuck, this has GOT to stop, Peter.”

“One more time!” Peter said, shaking the mask in his direction. “For me! For your brother! Your only not-counting-Ben brother!”

“I am six fucking inches taller than you!” Kaine said. “You don’t think the Human Torch’ll catch on when he has to lean up on his tiptoes to stick his tongue down my spandex?”

Peter closed his eyes, raising a hand to his forehead. Suddenly he had an incredible headache. “It’s a chance I am willing to take.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/142517585214/swingsetindecember-traincat !


	18. Spider Siblings, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: ... I had to remind myself that johnny going on a date with each spiderclones and related spiders except peter parker is NOT canon.

FIVE ENCOUNTERS JOHNNY STORM HAD WITHOUT PETER PARKER (+ the one time they got it right)

1) Ben

“Listen,” Spider-Man said, sounding a little breathless, and okay, maybe that one was on Johnny. He probably should’ve given Spider-Man a little more warning before he kissed him. Like, maybe just enough to roll up the mask.

“That’s never been my strong suit,” Johnny said, trying for seductive and probably failing. It was hard to be coy when you were trying to scrape the taste of lycra off your tongue. He ran his hands up Spider-Man’s chest. “And can I just say, damn, you look strong in that suit?”

Spider-Man’s laughter was high and nervous. He grabbed Johnny’s hands, holding them still. “That’s – super flattering, really, I am so flattered, but I’m also –”

“Taken?” Johnny asked, sighing. “Not interested in men?”

“No, he’s – I mean, I’M single, totally single, not so sure about the other thing, kind of a confusing time in a young vigilante’s life, you know these experimental college years!” Spider-Man released Johnny’s hands, mostly so he could wave his own around like an over-excited chicken. “Speaking of, time flies, crime to catch, you know the drill! See you, Torch!”

Then he scampered down the fire escape with significantly less grace than Johnny was accustomed to seeing from him.

“Ah, Torchie,” he said to himself, watching Spider-Man go. “You still got it.” He pitched his voice louder than normal and said, “So I can kiss you again, right?”

Spider-Man made a series of strangled noises, which definitely wasn’t a ‘no.’

2) Kaine

The second time Johnny kissed Spider-Man, he had to lean up on his toes. Spider-Man didn’t kiss back this time. He hadn’t really kissed back last time, either, but he’d sort of gasped a little and Johnny thought there might have been a split-second of hesitation.

This time, Spider-Man just went very, very still.

“Are you taller than normal?” he asked.

“How is this my life?” Spider-Man asked. He took Johnny none too gently by the shoulders and separated them. “You. Stay. Over. There.”

“Kind of getting mixed signals here,” Johnny said. “Considering last time and all.”

Spider-Man squinted down at him. “Did he – fuck, would he not tell us?”

“Would who not tell us what?” Johnny asked.

“Fuck,” said Spider-Man.

“You know, I’ve never heard you swear before,” Johnny said. “It’s kind of hot.”

“Are you actually this dumb, or are you making fun of me?” Spider-Man asked. “Because you cannot possibly be this fucking dumb.”

“Wow, save the sweet talk, Spidey,” Johnny said, scowling.

Spider-Man sucked in a breath like he was about to go off, but Johnny was saved by the flash of a camera.

“Wow, it’s Spider-Man!” said Peter Parker, professional pest. How Parker always managed to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time, Johnny would never know. He was going to get himself punched in that (pretty cute, kind of – Johnny had always had a thing for lanky brunet nerds, a fact he tried not to think about too hard in light of his brother-in-law) face one of these days. “Mr. Osborn, would you BELIEVE Spider-Man is RIGHT HERE, on this VERY STREET we just SO HAPPENED to turn down?!”

Norman Osborn stroked his chin. Johnny bristled a little; Parker should really know better than to hang around a bastard like that, even if he knew from the tabloids that Parker was best friends with Norman Osborn’s only son.

“Yes,” Osborn said. “How very… coincidental.”

“Fuck this,” Spider-Man said. He stepped out on the curb and hailed a cab. “I hate my life, I hate my life, I haaaaaate my liiiiiiiiiife.”

A cab pulled up and Spider-Man climbed inside. He was 100% for sure taller than usual.

“Weird,” said Johnny.

3) Jessica

Contrary to what Sue and certain tabloids thought, Johnny could take a hint. Spider-Man had thought about it and decided he wasn’t interested in Johnny. It stung a little (it stung a pretty impossible lot) but Johnny could accept that. A few more weeks of moping and he’d move on.

Spider-Man was his friend, first and foremost. Johnny wasn’t going to let his trampled feelings get in the way of a good old-fashioned team-up.

He hadn’t meant to turn his head at the exact same moment Spider-Man did; their faces brushed together. Not a kiss. Not really.

Close enough for Johnny.

“Oh,” Spider-Man said, very quietly, and, head tilted, leaned in again. It was a strange, close-mouthed kiss through the mask, but Johnny’s lips tingled after.

Spider-Man sighed, then clumsily patted at Johnny’s chest. His voice had been very growly all day, overly deep, like he was aiming for a Christian Bale sort of thing. “Nope. Still like girls. But that was super nice.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“But like,” Spider-Man said. “Maybe try again next week! When I look slightly taller. Not a lot taller. Slightly taller.”

“Uh,” Johnny said. “Okay?”

“And only if I don’t sound blond,” Spider-Man said.

“I don’t really get what’s going on with you lately, Spidey,” Johnny admitted.

Spider-Man sighed. “Trust me – one of these days, I’m gonna write a book.”

4) Ben, Take 2

“Oh, this is the famous family luck in action,” Spider-Man said. “Listen, I’m going to run away now, but only because this is awkward in ways you can’t possibly understand, not because you don’t have a chance! Hey, check out that cute photographer!”

The cute photographer was Peter Parker again, go figure. By the time Johnny looked back, Spider-Man was running.

“This was not the deal!” Parker yelled at Spider-Man’s retreating back.

“Sorry, random citizen!” Spider-Man shouted over his shoulder.

Johnny was beginning to regret his affections.

5) Kaine & Jessica

There were two Spider-Men. Neither of them was the right height. One of them had a little girl clinging to his back.

“Uh,” Johnny said.

“Alternate universe!” the shorter Spider-Man said, too quickly.

“Clones!” the taller said at the exact same time.

“Clones! From an alternate universe!” said the shorter one. “Gotta love this wacky superhero lifestyle we lead, huh?”

“Urgh,” said the taller one. “Aracely, don’t yank on my mask.”

“You said we were going for ice cream,” said the little girl. She gave Johnny a gap-toothed smile. “Human Torch! Come with us for ice cream. You want… strawberry!”

She wasn’t wrong.

6) Peter Parker

“Oh,” Johnny said, staring down at Spider-Man’s maskless face. He knew that slightly crooked nose, that messy brown hair, the curve of that jaw. Peter Parker was the man beneath the mask. “This makes no sense at all.”

Agatha Harkness’ hand landed feather light on his shoulder. “The truth rarely does.”

“But it’s him, right? It’s really him?” He didn’t know why he was asking. He knew it was, deep in his soul, sure in a way Johnny had rarely known himself to be sure about anything. He watched the slight rise and fall of Peter’s chest, the dark curve of his eyelashes. He was so still. “What do I do?”

“He’s cursed, placed in an enchanted sleep,” Agatha said. “And here you are, the dashing young hero. What do you think you should do?”

Johnny could practically hear Reed scoff, Sue’s skepticism, Ben’s flippant denial. He swallowed. “But that’s not real, right? That’s not how real life works.”

“Young man,” said Agatha, gesturing. “Look at your real life and tell me something can’t be real.”

Johnny nodded. If he knew one thing, it was that he loved Spider-Man – he’d loved him without knowing his name or his face, for years, before he knew what this feeling truly was. He wanted him, but he loved him first – loved him unselfishly, the kind of love he hadn’t known he could have for people who weren’t Sue, Reed and Ben.

Johnny ducked his head and pressed his lips to Spider-Man’s slightly parted ones. He palmed his cheek and pressed their foreheads together and said, “Hey, Webhead. Time to wake up.”

Peter’s eyelashes fluttered.

* * *

 

“But I don’t understand,” Johnny said later, sitting side by side with Peter at the Statue of Liberty. “I’ve seen you and Spider-Man together. You take photos of him. How do you do it?”

“Really fancy mirror tricks,” Peter said. He sighed, ducking his head. “I’ve got two brothers and one sister and some extra suits. I – they don’t do it often. They can’t, they don’t have powers. But whenever I need to prove that Peter Parker isn’t Spider-Man…”

He waved a hand.

“Wow,” Johnny said. “Okay. That explains things. I’m pretty sure I have kissed like, all your siblings.”

“I know,” Peter said. “They rated you.”

“What?” Johnny squawked. “They rated me?!”

“Kind of low,” Peter said. “Maybe they were trying to keep my expectations down.”

“They rated me low?” Johnny said.

“Ben gave you an A for effort,” Peter said, snickering. Johnny made an outraged noise.

“Oh,” he said, leaning forward. “Oh, I am going to show you effort, Peter Parker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/144938843839/i-had-to-remind-myself-that-johnny-going-on-a !


	19. The Prince and the Pauper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to a drawing Sciderman did of Johnny and Peter in medieval-ish-style clothes!

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and - well, actually I’m like a sun, basically.” 

Peter huffed a sigh of relief and turned around, only to be nearly blinded. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“I think that’s my line, Burlap Man,” Johnny said, eyebrows arched. It was hard for Peter to keep looking at his face, what with the knee high boots and the stockings and the truly gigantic ruff. “Did the local peasants throw you in a garbage heap before or after you opened with a joke?”

“I got dumped in farm town, unlike whatever it is that’s going on with you,” Peter replied. “Look at you. You look like you wandered out of a cheap movie about a forbidden historical romance. I don’t think that outfit’s even a little historically accurate, and I slept through every history class I took since I got bitten by the spider.”

“Weird how aliens usually aren’t usually too concerned with the details of their weird murder virtual realities,” Johnny said, catching him by the elbow and dragging him off the side of the road, into the shadow of a nearby building. “I’m glad I found you.”

Peter squeezed his hand. “Knew it was only a matter of time. The others?”

Johnny made a face. “No idea about Reed and Ben, but Sue’s the princess, so. That’s been fun.”

“Wait, if Sue’s the princess, aren’t you the prince?” Peter said. “Is the prince of the land consorting with a lowly commoner? Do all the court ladies know?”

“Stop,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. “I wish you came with an off button.”

“Does my unwashed face make your heart all aflutter, my lord?” Peter asked, batting his eyelashes. “Is it all the sloppily done-up laces on my outfit? The looming threat of the plague that stirs these turgid emotions?”

Johnny groaned. “I am trying to figure out where we should look for Reed and Ben, jackass.”

“I want you to know I’d kiss you,” Peter said, hands at Johnny’s waist, stroking over silk, “but I’m not sure how it’d work with the ruff in the way.”

“I hate you,” Johnny said. “I wish I’d found Ben.”

Peter got around the ruff by wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck and tugging his head down until he could kiss his forehead. “Sire! Flame of my loins, flaxen-haired igniter of my darkest desires. The king must never know! Nor my father, the butcher!”

“I’m gonna leave you here,” Johnny said, putting his forehead down against Peter’s shoulder.

“Is this is a hidden zipper?” Peter asked, inspecting Johnny’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/144474717144/hello-sci-my-dear-as-a-fellow-spideytorch !


	20. Jealousy/Protectivess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Peter totally not jealous after learning Johnny's past relationship with Daken.
> 
> Warning for implied but no actual dub/noncon, courtesy of the potential of Daken’s powers and Peter’s assumptions

“Daken?”

Reed craned his neck halfway across the room. Peter, sitting in his spider-suit with his fingers still touched to the screen, glanced questioningly up at him.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Reed said.

“I annoyed Her Highness, your darling daughter, so she revoked my security clearance,” Peter said. “I snuck in from the roof and came here to add myself back in. Why does Wolverine Junior have revoked clearance? Why did he ever have clearance to begin with?”

Reed sighed and the rest of his body joined his head and neck. “It was during Osborn’s regime. Daken came to us and … we made certain arrangements with him.”

“The psycho with the bad attitude and the worse hair was your man on the inside?” Peter said, eyebrows shooting up sky high.

“He came to us in friendship,” Reed said with a helpless little gesture, not quite a shrug. “He was – is – brilliant. Unpredictable, volatile, yes, but exceptionally clever.”

“You’re clever,” Peter said, pointing first to Reed, then to himself. “I’m clever. That guy’s a loon.”

Reed’s smile was small and tired and he spread his hands before him helplessly. “We considered him family for a time. I know it’s hard to believe. He and Johnny were,” he hesitated, glancing at Peter, and seemed to weigh the word on his tongue, “Close.”

“Close,” Peter repeated, a strange feeling creeping up on him.

“Friends,” Reed said, ducking his head.

Peter went very still.

Reed, Sue, Ben and Johnny had all lived in each other’s pockets for over a dozen years. If anybody knew Johnny better than Peter, it was those three. Reed knew, better than anyone, that friendship didn’t come easily for Johnny. There were the family connections, sure, and Peter, and Wyatt, and a small handful of others. But on the whole, friendship wasn’t something Johnny excelled at.

Peter could hazard a few guesses about Daken and friendship, too.

Johnny and Daken hadn’t been friends.

* * *

 

“Excuse me?”

Johnny stared up at him and Peter felt himself flush all the way down to his chest.

“I just,” he said. He dropped his eyes to their joined hands, pressed to the mattress. For a split second it was overlaid with the idea of someone else hovering over Johnny in this bed, someone with sharp teeth and dark whorls of a tattoo. “Reed said something to me this afternoon. About how you were… friends.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, slowly, eyebrows drawing together. He untangled his hands from Peter’s – Peter resisted automatically, then let go with a hot-cold flash of nerves. Johnny shoved at his chest until Peter rolled off him. “I don’t think the weird pause was Reed’s, though.”

“No,” Peter admitted, sitting back. “The weird pauses and the babbling are both usually mine.”

Johnny pulled himself up, leaning against the headboard. He tilted his head. It was dark in his room, and the city lights shining through his big windows threw sparks across his shadowed face. There were embers in his eyes. “What are you asking me, Peter?”

“You and the Bad Seed,” Peter said, stumbling over the words. He clenched and unclenched his hands, balanced on his knees. “Did you – was it –”

“Wait. Are you jealous?” Johnny asked, teasing. He looked a little pleased at the idea, reaching out to touch Peter again.

“No,” Peter spit out like venom.

Fighting Daken had been a disquieting experience. He was fast, he was strong, he healed – but the way he had used his pheromones to strip Peter of his equilibrium, to leave him stumbling and off-balance, head spinning, had been the most disturbing part of the fight.

The idea of Johnny under that kind of thrall made him want to break something. Preferably Daken.

Johnny snatched his hand back like he’d been burned.

“No,” Peter said, more evenly.

“Oh,” said Johnny. “So… what, you’re just curious? Do you want a list, or do you just care if it was him?”

“That’s not what I,” Peter started, but Johnny didn’t give a chance to stumble through the words. He leaned forward, eyes flickering in the gloom.

“’Cause, one time, I dated a girl with a whole string of unpaid parking tickets,” he said. “Does that rate the look on your face?”

Peter blushed, hot and angry. “That’s not the same thing, and that’s not what I’m getting at.”

Johnny climbed from the bed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Peter was struck, just like always, by the grace in his long limbs, his broad shoulders, the flex of his big hands. His underwear rode low on his hips.

Peter couldn’t stop thinking about it: Daken stepping up behind him, chin hooked over Johnny’s shoulder, his hands at Johnny’s waist. Daken was more dangerous with his claws sheathed. He could make anyone hate him or want him with a flutter of his dark eyelashes.

One little pheromone burst and Johnny would’ve been pinned like a butterfly. Every feeling in Peter’s chest was an angry knot.

Johnny had stopped by the windows, staring down at New York. Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed but didn’t get up.

“It wasn’t,” he said, one hand on the glass. “After. What he did to the city, I mean. It was before. He came to us for help. He was hot, and I liked him, and I thought he liked me. We fucked a couple of times. It was fun. He said he wanted to be different. He saved Franklin.”

He stripped me of my senses and broke my ribs, Peter didn’t say. “I don’t like it.”

It was a mistake. Johnny turned flashing eyes on him again. “You don’t have to. Nobody invited you to the threesome.”

“He’s dangerous,” Peter argued, the rush of heat to his face more anger than embarrassment.

Johnny snorted. “Everything we do is dangerous.”

“He could’ve hurt you,” Peter said, hating the idea, Johnny with his guard down, and Daken, always healing, unafraid of being burned, claws never more than a flex away. Daken, who could evoke any reaction he wanted, just by wanting it.

Johnny turned back to the glass. “Too late for that one.”

Peter’s breath hitched. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d climbed from the bed and taken Johnny by the shoulders, spinning him around. “What did he do?” he demanded.

Johnny’s eyes were wide. “Peter?”

“What did Daken do?” Peter asked, shaking Johnny a little.

“He,” Johnny started, reaching up to take Peter by the wrist. Then, unbelievably, he started laughing. “Is that what this is about?” He reached up to take Peter’s face between his hands, tilting his head to kiss the space between Peter’s brows. “You’re so fucking ridiculous! I thought it was a weird sex thing, like you didn’t like me sleeping with supervillains –”

“I don’t like you sleeping with supervillains,” Peter said, hands slipping to Johnny’s waist.

“—Or other guys,” Johnny said.

“I don’t like that, either,” Peter said, brow furrowed. Johnny headbutted him very, very gently.

“Don’t act dumber than you already are,” Johnny said. “This isn’t you being weird or jealous or judgy – you were worried!”

He looked delighted. Peter’s squeezed his hips.

“You’ve met me, right?” he said. “I’m always worried.”

“You thought he hurt me,” Johnny said, kissing, inexplicably, Peter’s nose. “Ridiculous.”

“You said he hurt you,” Peter said, pulling Johnny closer. Johnny draped his arms over Peter’s shoulders, leaning their foreheads together.

“Not the way you’re thinking,” he said. “He visited us, right before he attacked the city. He came to see Reed, and I – you know I’d just gotten back from the Negative Zone, right? And I’d – when I’d realized he was alive, I’d been so relieved. I thought he’d feel the same way.”

Something bright and sharp caught in Peter’s chest at the idea that anyone might not feel that way – he’d always remember the joy he’d felt when the gate had opened and Johnny had been on the other side.

He felt Johnny’s harsh swallow. “He told me real people stay dead.”

Peter tilted his head to kiss Johnny, soft and chaste. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s pretty low on my list of bad breakups,” Johnny said. “But it stung. It – I’m not stupid.” For once, Peter didn’t snort. “I knew who he was, the kind of things he did. But I still thought – I don’t know what I thought.”

“Johnny,” Peter said softly, holding him close. Softly, he admitted, “I was jealous. I was worried for you, yeah, but I didn’t like the idea of his hands on you. I don’t like the idea of anybody’s hands on you but mine.” A beat. “Especially his, though.”

Johnny laughed softly. “You don’t have to worry. Yours are the only hands I want. Just your weird spider-fingers.”

Peter danced his fingertips up the length of Johnny’s back, just to make him laugh. He shut his eyes, breathing out slow.

“Okay?” Johnny asked.

“Okay,” Peter said.

“My knight in webbed armor,” Johnny said, kissing him again.


	21. Sex Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Spideytorch, looking at sex toys and talking about it?

“If you’re trying to give me the vapors, you should know you were beaten to the punch.”

Johnny’s hand snaked its way through Peter’s unbuttoned shirt, pinching a nipple. Peter grabbed his wrist, but didn’t move his hand. “Quit it. I’m working.”

“You’re grading papers; I have actually seen you do it in your sleep,” Johnny said, leaning over. “I’m trying to show you something.”

Peter glanced at the screen, then glanced away. “I’m telling you, I’ve already seen it. Multiple times. I have heard every joke you can come up with, so quit while you’re ahead.”

“Have I ever?” Johnny asked. He snapped Peter’s laptop closed and shoved it out of the way, swinging himself into Peter’s lap. He still held his sleek tablet, the page in question open. Peter had three choices: look at it, look at Johnny’s face, or screw his eyes shut and sing at the top of his lungs until Johnny surrendered.

He chose Johnny’s face. Johnny’s grin was devilish, his eyebrows arched. He was struggling not to laugh.

“Get it over with,” Peter told him.

“It’s a good guess,” Johnny couldn’t get the words out without laughing, “but the size is wrong. Too bad for you.”

Peter sighed in exasperation. He sat up, knocking Johnny down on the bed as he climbed over him, shedding his shirt. The tablet fell from Johnny’s hand, face-up on the sheets. The Spider-Man themed dildo, bright red object of his eternal ire, stared back up at him.

Johnny was laughing in earnest now, bright and happy. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Peter’s boxer briefs, pulling them down.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice mockingly soothing. “I like your Amazing Web Shooter much better.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Peter groaned as Johnny got a hand around him, tugging once. Johnny kissed him, biting at his bottom lip. Peter got a hand under Johnny’s thigh, and then paused. “Wait. Does that – did you – Johnny.”

“Yeah?” Johnny asked.

“Do you own one of those?” Peter asked, mind fritzing out on the idea – on the mental image, Johnny and the, ugh, Amazing Web Shooter, long and thick and angry red. Johnny, maybe lonely, maybe missing him. Johnny, before they’d gotten together, pretending it was Peter.

He swallowed hard, fire in his veins.

“Um,” Johnny said, a rare moment of earnestness on his face. His laugh was nervous this time, his bright gaze locked with Peter’s. “I cannot, in good faith, recommend the webbing texture.”

Peter made a broken noise, capturing Johnny’s mouth again. He could see it whenever he closed his eyes: Johnny alone in his big bed, lip caught between his teeth, his hands on himself, pretending they were Peter’s. Had he said Peter’s name?

“Aren’t you glad the real model doesn’t come with that feature?” Peter said, doing some interesting contortions as he fumbled for the bedside drawer.

“Lube,” Johnny said, laughing. His gaze was on the ceiling now, his cheeks uncharacteristically red. “Lots of lube.”

“Speaking of,” Peter said, settling himself between Johnny’s spread legs. He exhaled shakily, stroking Johnny’s bare thigh, touching the hollow behind his knee. He wrapped his hand there and squeezed before he tugged Johnny’s leg up. “I should be – I don’t know, I’m offended, this is an abuse of my image. How very dare you.”

“I thought about you,” Johnny finally admitted, making a noise as Peter slid two slick fingers into him. He was pure heat, just like always. Peter saw it again: the slow slide of silicone, Johnny’s head thrown back, the long curve of his neck and heat in his cheeks as he imagined Peter instead. “I felt guilty.”

Peter groaned. “Johnny –”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, pulling him down, strong hands on him. “C’mon, c’mon already.” Then, because he was completely awful, he waited until Peter was inside him to add with a filthy waggle of his eyebrows and an exaggerated porn star moan, “Fill me up with your hot web, Spidey! Shoot it deep! Unf!”

Peter made a noise that was supposed to be gagging but got caught halfway between a laugh and a moan.

“Disgusting!” he said, chest shaking with everything he felt. He thrust hard with the intent of shutting Johnny up for once in his life. Johnny gasped, fingers scrabbling at Peter. “Hate you. Ugh!”

* * *

 

“Do you still own it?” Peter asked a while later, tracing webbing patterns on Johnny’s skin. Johnny shifted so he could shoot him a guilty smile.

“Nah,” he said. “Went up with the building once. Never replaced it. I felt bad enough the first time, you know? I, uh, I only used it once.” His hand slipped over Peter’s hip under the sheets to grab hold of Peter’s dick, which gave an interested twitch. Peter silently thanked the world for spider-stamina and Johnny’s libido. “And now I have the real model.”

“What about me, though?” Peter said. “Are there Human Torch sex toys?”

“I’m offended you’ve never googled that,” Johnny said, then snorted. “No. What would they make? A burn kit?” Peter shot him a look; he knew what a tight hold Johnny kept on his powers, especially in bed. “I’m joking. No, the lawyers would have a fit. We have to uphold our family friendly reputation.”

“Sucks for me,” Peter said.

“What, am I not good enough for you?” Johnny said in mock offense.

“Eh,” Peter said. Johnny kissed him, biting at his lip. Peter indulged in it for a minute, the slow slide of their mouths, before he asked the question that’d been nagging at him the past few minutes. “You never thought about buying another?”

There was a split-second of hesitance before Johnny’s face split into a grin. “Another what?”

“Don’t make me say the name,” Peter begged.

“Why would I need one?” Johnny asked. “Unless you wanted to use the Amazing Web Shooter –”

“The name is ruining it for me,” Peter warned him, but the absolutely terrible thing was, it really wasn’t. He couldn’t get the thought of Johnny using it out of his head. He slid a hand down Johnny’s side, picturing it.

“Unless you wanted to use it on me?” Johnny teased, eyes glimmering. Peter groaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Or maybe you want a turn with the Amazing Web Shooter? I won’t be jealous.”

“If you say that one more time I’m leaving you. I thought you said you couldn’t recommend it.”

“Maybe it’s better with company,” Johnny said, eyes dark.

The next kiss was filthy and searing, and then Johnny broke away, fumbling over the side of the bed for his abandoned tablet. Peter moved with him, wrapping himself around him, lips to the back of Johnny’s neck.

“Wait,” he said, pulling Johnny back. “It can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/145566660849/spideytorch-looking-at-sex-toys-and-talking-about !
> 
> The Amazing Web Shooter is real and I can never unread those reviews.


	22. Supervillain Peter AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: prompt: johnny or peter is evil (and hot)

The costume was black with a silvery hint of webs, highlighting lean musculature and proud shoulders, the deceptively slim ankles and wrists. The mask was a man in black band of cloth with eyeholes cut in that did little to hide Spider-Man’s face. Everyone knew he had nothing to lose.

“Well, well,” Spider-Man said as Johnny struggled against bonds that he couldn’t burn away, not with his powers dampened the way they were. “Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the firefly.”

Johnny hissed, steam curling up from between his teeth. Flames flickered at the tips of his hair and his fingertips. He needed to burn hotter. He needed to escape.

“What?” said Spider-Man, leaning in close. He had huge brown eyes, thickly lashed and unsuited to the smirk on his face. “Not funny? I thought it was funny. You’re supposed to be a funny guy, Torch!”

Spider-Man’s full lips split in a sinister grin, flashing white teeth. Johnny’s traitorous heart gave a lurch. It was too easy to remember the press of that mouth against his own.

He pulled once more at the restraints and then surrendered against the pull of the webbing. “Where’s Ben? What’d you do to my powers?”

“The Thing's preoccupied, I’m assuming,” Spider-Man said, shrugging one shoulder. “I got to call dibs on you because everyone always wants the big guy or Richards. But I like you the best, Sparky.”

He grinned again, that devil may care smile. Johnny really had to stop making decisions with his dick and doing stupid things like developing feelings for members of the Sinister Six. When he got out of here, he was going to only date accountants and people who rescued kittens from trees.

“As for your powers, it’s a formula I’m playing around with. Not really sure how long it’ll last, but it’s pretty fun for now, right?” Spider-Man fingers touched his cheek, feather-light. He leaned in, his voice a whisper. The mocking tone he used for Spider-Man was gone. Johnny tried not to shiver at the touch of his cool breath against his ear. “I don’t think you mind being trapped in my web that much, Johnny.”

It would be easy to turn his head and kiss him again. Just one more kiss.

But Ben was out there, alone. Sue and Reed too. His family needed him.

It was like trying to coax a candle flame into an inferno, but Johnny pulled at it, willing himself hotter, higher. He knew he had it a split-second before he ignited by the slight turn of Spider-Man’s head, the widening of those brown eyes.

He exploded into flame, burning away the restraints in an instant. Spider-Man whooped with wild laughter, somersaulting easily out of the way.

“Now it’s a party!” he said, balanced on the very edge of the roof. His back was arched, arms out, the only part of him touching the ground the tips of his toes. It seemed impossible that he could hang there, suspended. Everything about him seemed impossible.

Johnny couldn’t help it. He darted forward just as Spider-Man fell backwards, shouting his name. “Peter!”

Peter disappeared down below, a line of webbing shooting out to the next building. “Catch me if you can, hero!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/145578466669/prompt-johnny-or-peter-is-evil-and-hot !


	23. Hurt/Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Spideytorch prompt: Peter taking care of a sick Johnny!

“Listen, I know I call you Hot Stuff a lot, but this is getting out of hand.” Peter’s fingers hovered a few inches above Johnny’s shoulder, the closest he could get without being blistered. “Hon, hey, I need you to crank it down.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Johnny asked, huddled miserably on a table in Reed’s lab. He was shivering. “I can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He lowered his hands to grip the very edge of the table, then had to ease up when it creaked ominously under his whiteknuckled hands. He felt useless.

“Pete,” Johnny whined, dragging the fire-proof blankets Reed had provided up over his shoulders. He wasn’t on fire anymore, burning out of control, but that was a recent development. Peter ached to touch him, to stroke his hair back from his forehead, to climb up on the table behind him and pull him into an embrace.

But he couldn’t touch him barehanded. Johnny would never forgive Peter for burning himself on him, not when he was trying so hard to keep himself under tight control. But Peter’s burns would heal fast, and to him it seemed an even trade, a few hours of stinging to be able to offer Johnny any comfort.

“I’ll web my hands,” Peter decided, fumbling with his webshooters. Johnny made a disgusted noise.

“Touch me with webbing and you’re gonna find yourself single,” he bit out. He tugged the blankets higher, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I can’t get warm.”

“I know,” Peter said, trying to pitch his voice towards soothing, but Johnny wasn’t a scared kid or a lost dog, and this, he’d never been good at – comfort without touch. “I’m thinking at this rate not much would help there, save for being on the surface of the sun.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Johnny said. His teeth were chattering. So hot Peter couldn’t even touch him and his teeth were chattering. “This sucks. Do you know I haven’t been sick since I was sixteen?”

“I wouldn’t say this is exactly like being sick,” Peter said, only to end up glared at. “Shutting up. What can I do?”

Ben knocked on the door before Johnny could answer. His face was set in a grimace. “Webs. There’s something happenin’ downtown.”

Peter’s heart sank. He looked down at Johnny, miserable, burning and shivering, and then back at the rocky set of Ben’s frown.

“Can’t it wait?” he said, even though he knew that Ben wouldn’t be standing in that doorway if he could.

“It’s Connors, kid,” Ben said. Peter hung his head; it really couldn’t wait, then. Not without risking lives – Curt’s, or civilians.

“How much longer did Reed say until Diablo’s stuff is out of his system…?” Peter said, jaw set, knowing he couldn’t wait even if it was just minutes.

“Couple of hours still,” Ben said, looking like he knew what Peter was thinking.

“Stop tying yourself in knots,” Johnny said, shifting onto his back. “Go. Do your job.”

Peter loved him. He pulled his mask on and, ignoring his buzzing spider-sense, pressed his forehead to Johnny’s, just one searing split second, before he vaulted over the table.

“Watch over him?” he said to Ben.

“You don’t ever gotta ask me that,” Ben said.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Peter promised.

* * *

 

As soon as he could turned out to be a little over six hours. First there was the fight, a drawn out thing, him trying to wear the Lizard down, to catch him unawares so he could dose him. Always a slow process, especially when civilians kept getting in his way, wielding camera phones and rocks in equal measure. Then there was sitting with Connors afterwards, Connors’ head hung low, small in his tattered clothes.

“Did I hurt–?” he’d said, and Peter had promised, “No,” shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Connors said.

The trek home wasn’t long, but Peter’s aching muscles made it drag on forever. His left shoulder screamed every time he used that arm, which made swinging difficult, to say the least. He could feel the claw marks in his side, webbed up tightly to staunch the bleeding, just starting to scab over.

Johnny was still sleeping in Reed’s lab when Peter limped in, but he was, blissfully, only ten or twenty degrees above his normal temperature. Peter’s head spun with either relief or blood loss; he’d stopped being able to tell the difference between the two years ago. He pressed masked lips against Johnny’s bare shoulder.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Johnny muttered, eyes still closed. “Couldn’t stop to shower?”

He fumbled with one hand; Peter took it gladly.

“Wanted to check on Sleeping Beauty first,” he said. “I can touch you again.”

“Yeah, I know,” Johnny said. “M’better, I think. Reed says whatever Diablo dosed me with is almost out of my system.”

 _Thank you_ , Peter thought silently, glancing up at the ceiling. _Thank you._

“You okay?” Johnny asked, cracking his eyes open. “Wait, never mind. Why did I ask? You look like hell.”

“I’ll be fine,” Peter said. “Just… long night.”

“Mm,” Johnny agreed. “Shrug into something that didn’t go twelve rounds with the Lizard, maybe?”

“In a second,” Peter said, raising Johnny’s hand to his masked lips and just holding it there. Johnny watched him silently, something Peter couldn’t identify in his eyes. “Did I tell you I bought oven mitts?”

“Shut up,” Johnny said, cracking a tired grin. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know,” Peter said, closing his eyes and putting his forehead down against Johnny’s knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/145839321704/spideytorch-prompt-peter-taking-care-of-a-sick !


	24. Brooklyn 99 AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: idk if you know brooklyn nine nine, but if you have have you ever considered a writing spideytorch b99 au? peter as the hard working, overly enthusiastic detective who gets scarily competitive (santiago) and johnny as the childish immature detective who's still somehow really good at his job (jake)?

“Man,” Peter said, falling backwards into his chair. “My snitches are the best. The key is to always send them handwritten thank you notes.” 

There is the man I have chosen to love, Johnny thought with resignation, watching as Peter held out his hand for a very complicated fistbump with Flash Thompson. Peter Parker, upstanding officer, honorable man, irrepressible speller and incredible dork.

“Are you bragging about that?” Johnny said. 

“Laura knows what’s up,” Peter said, winking at Officer Kinney, who Johnny was pretty sure had never said thank you in her whole entire life, let alone handwritten a note to an informant. 

Laura glowered wordlessly and with murderous intent. Johnny was a little bit scared of her. 

He left Peter to his defense of his aunt’s Emily Post books and leaned against Jan’s desk. “Janet.”

“What’s cookin’, good-looking?” Jan asked. She did not look up from her cell phone. 

“I have a problem,” Johnny whined, slumping on his back on a (mostly) bare patch of her desk. A bedazzled yellow highlighter dug into the small of his back, but that was nothing compared to the pain of being in love with Peter Parker, amazing cop and former Midtown High mathlete champ.

“Mmhmm,” Jan said. “This bee in your bonnet got perpetual helmet hair and a penchant for cardigans?”

Nobody’s shoulders had the right to look that nice in a sweater from Sears. So Peter dressed terribly, and he sent his snitches handwritten notes, and once undercover he’d said, “may I have some cocaine please,” because, and he quoted, “politeness counts, Johnny.” But Johnny had also seen him be incredibly kind and gentle with lost children and crying adults and he never, ever gave up on anyone or anything, ever.

Also one time Johnny had seen him, somehow, choke out a man with his thighs. He still had dreams about that.

“Storm. Is there a reason you’re lying on Ms. Van Dyne’s desk?”

“Captain!” Johnny said, sitting straight up. Captain Wilson stared unblinking at him. Captain Wilson stared unblinking at everyone, including his husband James, excluding his bird, Redwing. “I was just, uh, telling Janet about a problem we’re having. A serious. Work problem.”

“Of the heaaaaaaaart,” sang Jan, who was, Johnny was pretty sure, actually heartless. She slung her fashionable ankle booted feet up on her desk. “Ooh, next level.” 

Captain Wilson still hadn’t blinked. “My office, Storm. Parker, you too.”

Across the room, Peter lit up like the fourth of July.

Johnny sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS NOT AN AU:
> 
> “People think if they put on a costume they can get away with anything they want,” Peter fumed, balling his mask up into his fist. “Halloween is Christmas for jerks!”
> 
> “Babe,” Johnny said, eyes traveling slowly over Peter’s red and blue spandex covered body. There was a long pause.
> 
> “This is different,” Peter said, hand pressed to the webs on his chest.
> 
> “Uh-huh.”
> 
> originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/145885602139/idk-if-you-know-brooklyn-nine-nine-but-if-you


	25. Fanboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> timelordsandladies asked: for the short fic -- how about one where Peter accidentally stumbles across Johnny's secret/not-so-secret stash of Spidey memorabilia? like the marvel adventures ff cute-osity stuff, maybe. he definitely has a spidey halloween outfit in 616.

1)

“I swear, you guys would keep me in royalty dough forever. If, y’know, I was actually seeing any money off this merch,” Peter said, watching as Franklin wandered by in his third Spider-Man shirt of the week.

“It’s a phase,” Johnny said, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Guess the mug is probably his too,” Peter said.

There was a long, poignant pause. Peter’s eyes went wide. His grin was evil.

“Stop,” Johnny told him, but it was too late.

“No,” said Peter. He pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, Torch, I had no idea –”

“It’s Ben’s!” Johnny said. “It’s – Reed bought it!”

“How long have you felt this way?” Peter asked with a ridiculous flutter of his (ridiculously long) eyelashes. Johnny felt heat rush to his face.

“It was a gag gift,” he said. “I take it to the garage so I won’t be upset when it inevitably breaks.”

“Sure,” Peter said, still guffawing as he wandered into the living room.

Where, coincidentally, Franklin was playing with a Spider-Man figure.

Johnny had regrets.

 

2)

“Oh, that is precious.”

“Shut up,” Johnny hissed between his teeth. Baby Val sighed and squirmed, strapped to his chest with a sling. A Spider-Man print sling. Johnny was going to have words with Sue.

“It’s adorable, is what it is,” Peter said, doing a hand stand on the roof’s edge. Johnny couldn’t see his expression with the mask in the way, but his voice oozed smugness.

“I _just_ got her to sleep,” Johnny whispered. “If you wake her up, you’re the one who has to take her flying until she settles down again.”

“What kind of weird baby calms down flying around?” Peter asked. Johnny, seated on the roof’s edge with Val just starting to fuss, shot him a glare.

“A fantastic baby,” Johnny shot back, trying to soothe her. It was no use. He sighed. “Aw, Val.”

Peter flipped himself over, effortlessly graceful, and rocked back on his haunches, balanced on the tip of his toes. He stared at Johnny with his big blank mask eyes.

“What?” Johnny said.

Sheepishly, Peter held out his hands. “ _Can_ I take her swinging?”

 

3)

“I like your tie,” Peter said to Ben. The tie in question was a dark navy blue with a pattern of tiny little Spider-Man faces all over it. Johnny had bought it years ago, and he’d paid more than he would ever admit.

“Thought you would,” Ben said, gruff, clapping Peter on the back hard enough to stagger even him. “Matchstick here got it for me.”

Johnny cringed; he’d hoped Ben had forgotten that detail.

“Oh, Johnny,” Peter said, snickering. “I never knew you cared. Makes my gift a little embarrassing, though.” He handed Johnny a slim present wrapped in gold paper. “Happy birthday, Torch. For your collection.”

Inside the box was the same Spider-Man tie. Johnny glowered.

“Say cheese,” Peter said, holding up his camera with a grin.

“I hate you,” Johnny said.

 

4)

“I hate you,” Johnny gasped, head thrown back. Peter hummed a _sure you do_ , his hands at Johnny’s hips. Johnny fought for friction, but for once Peter was putting that impossible strength to use; he was pinned against the wall while Peter sucked kisses down his neck and rubbed his thumbs in circles against Johnny’s hipbones. Johnny flexed his hands, webbed high above his head. “Come on already.”

“What?” Peter asked, all sweetness and light. Johnny regretted this morning’s choice of the stupidly tight jeans. “You in some kind of rush?”

“ _Peter_. I will set you on fire.”

It was the idlest threat in the world. Peter slipped his hands up Johnny’s sides once, teasing, before his hands fell to Johnny’s fly.

“Okay, okay,” he said, getting Johnny’s jeans open. Johnny wriggled impatiently as Peter started to yank them down, only to stop abruptly. His eyes were fixed on Johnny’s crotch like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, which, considering he’d seen everything before…

 _Please don’t let this be the start of an embarrassing superhero thing_ , Johnny thought, right before he remembered what he was wearing under his jeans.

Peter’s gaze flicked up to meet his. Johnny could feel his face heat up.

“It was laundry day,” he said.

Peter burst out laughing. Actual, hysterical laughter, eyes screwed up and shoulders shaking with it.

The back of Johnny’s head hit the wall with a dull thud. _Great job, me_ , he thought to himself. _Good luck getting him to ever let this one go._

“I need a camera, I need,” Peter choked out because howls of laughter. “I need a moment. I need to record this for posterity, I –”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Johnny asked the universe in general. “What did I do to deserve him?”

“ _You own underwear with my face on it_ ,” Peter cackled to himself, swiping at his eyes. He gestured, helplessly, still snickering. “My face. Right on your junk. This is amazing. This is the best moment of my life.”

“Well, hey, that’s great, because this is the worst moment of mine,” Johnny said, scowling at him. “Peter. We were kind of doing something.”

“In a minute,” Peter said, dissolving into giggles again. “Johnny – Johnny I need to know something.”

“Am I planning on strangling you as soon as I can get my hands free?” Johnny said. “Yes. One hundred percent. No jury would convict me.”

“How long have you had underwear with my face on it?” Peter asked, grinning. He was finally touching Johnny again, but it was only to get a finger under the waistband so he could snap it.

Johnny kicked him. Peter grabbed his leg under the knee and held it immobile, leaving Johnny off-balance.

“Spider-Man underwear!” Peter cackled. “Ugh, I love you, you know that?”

Johnny hadn’t, actually. It must have shown on his face because Peter’s laughter faded and died, and then he was pressing close again, lips soft against Johnny’s.

Johnny bit him, because he deserved it. It didn’t make Peter stop smiling.

“Spider-Man underwear,” he repeated, the closest to deliriously happy Johnny had ever heard him. “I _love_ you.”

“You were never supposed to know about this,” Johnny grumbled. Peter kissed the corner of his mouth, the highest point of his cheekbone. His chest was shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Oh, that does _not_ make things better for you,” he said, finally pressing his body back against Johnny’s. Johnny whined low in his throat, hands pulling at his bonds, fingers curling helplessly.

“Pete, _please,_ ” he said. He couldn’t believe the experience hadn’t killed the mood for him, but he was still unbearably hard in his Spider-Man boxer briefs, which he was going to burn as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Could he blame cosmic rays for messing with his brain so much that he found Peter Parker sexy even when he was mocking him? “Please, please just ignore my wardrobe choices for right now. You can make fun of me later, I _promise_ , just –”

“Okay, okay,” Peter cut him off, sinking down onto his knees. He grinned up at Johnny. “But let no one ever say this was not my most heroic effort.”

 

5)

“You want to explain this one?” Peter asked, turning his laptop around so Johnny could see.

> CELEBRITIES: THEY’RE JUST LIKE US!
> 
> _They’re fanboys! The Fantastic Four’s Johnny Storm was caught coming out of Starbucks wearing this Spider-Man cardigan._

“Do I look good, or do I look good?” Johnny said. He was wearing sunglasses in the photo, coffee dangling from one hand. He’d rolled the cardigan’s sleeves up to his elbows, but not far enough to hide the spider-shaped patches there.

“Did you have to do the thwip motion?” Peter asked.

“I absolutely did,” Johnny told him. Peter sighed.

“Who even sells these things?” he asked. “Where do you keep getting them?”

“Internet, mostly,” Johnny said. “And those I Heart New York places.”

“Ugh, tourist traps,” Peter muttered to himself. Johnny got up, circling around the couch to settle his hands on Peter’s shoulders. Peter twisted to scowl at him. “I miss the days when you were deeply ashamed of your horrible crush on me.”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny said, bending to kiss the top of his head. “You know what they say: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/146021902104/for-the-short-fic-how-about-one-where-peter


	26. Wedding Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: What's the spideytorch wedding song?
> 
>  
> 
> **Five Songs Peter and Johnny Didn't Dance to at Their Wedding**

“You know what it has to be though, right?”

“The sound of my own never-ending screams?” Peter said, arms crossed and head lying on them. He didn’t bother looking up. “Gregorian chanting?”

Johnny’s hands slid slick down his back, rubbing sunscreen in. He bent low, crooning in Peter’s ear, “Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya…”

“You’re banned,” Peter said. “That makes no sense. I have never been that relaxed in my entire life. Look at me. At the beach and all I can think about is the fact that Kraven is definitely going to pick the wedding day to come back into my life. I’m going to be hunted in a tux. Let’s elope.”

“Nope. You could start relaxing, though,” Johnny said, hands drifting up to Peter’s shoulders and squeezing. “If we went waaaaay down to Kokomo, we’ll get there fast, and then we’ll take it _slow_.”

“You are ruining The Muppets for me.” Peter said with a muffled groan. “Did you write on my back?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just more lyrics. Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go?”

“Mmrgh,” Peter said. “No. Our first dance will be a moment of silence, dedicated to the memory of my dignity.”

“Martinique! That Montserrat mystique!”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been really tryin’, baby!” Peter sang off-key, rolling them over. Johnny, flushed and lovely all the way down his chest, straddled him, laughing in disbelief. “Tryin’ to hold back these feelings for so long – And if you feel, like I feel baby –”

“No!” Johnny said, eyes shining. “Absolutely not!”

“Then come on, oh come on!” Peter said, thrusting his hips up. Johnny caught himself with his hands against Peter’s chest. His hair fell in his face.

“Not in front of my sister!” Johnny said. “Your aunt! Literally everyone we know! The gang of cousins I’ve just been informed you have! Your _clone_!”

“Let’s get it onnnnnn!” Peter sang, the words choked through his laughter. “Oh, baby! Let’s get it on!”

“Wedding’s off,” Johnny said.

“Since we’ve got to be here,” Peter said, putting his flexibility to use and leaning up to kiss Johnny. “Let’s live, I love you!”

 

* * *

 

“You know what this situation reminds me of?” Johnny asked, treading water.

“Our impending deaths?” Peter asked, balanced precariously on a piece of driftwood. He was soaked through and shivering. A pang shot through Johnny; he was pretty sure he was concussed, though, and he wasn’t going to risk messing with Peter’s body temperature when he was less than a hundred percent.

“Okay, I was going to say that time the Sandman tied us up back to back at Christmas when we were kids, but sure, be that way,” Johnny said. He was trying to keep talking – it was only a matter of time before Ben and Sue found them. “Hey. You know what would be a great song for the wedding?”

“It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To?”

“Jerk,” Johnny said. He took a deep breath. “Every night in my dreams…”

“Oh no,” Peter said, one big brown doe eye horrified where the mask’s lens had gotten all smashed.

“I see you! I feeeeel you!”

“I already snapped a wrist today, now you have to go and make my ears bleed?” Peter said.

“That is how I know you go on!” Johnny crooned. “Far across the distance! The spaces between us!”

“How much did they autotune you for that tour?” Peter asked. “Be honest with me.”

“Shut up! This song is hard for everyone,” Johnny said. “Near, far, wheeeereeeeeeveeeeeer you are –”

“So, a lot.”

“I believe that the heart does … go on!” Johnny said, splashing freezing ocean water at Peter and deliberately missing.

“That is a terrible wedding song,” Peter said. “Leonardo DiCaprio died in that movie. He was in the water like you and he died.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel the cold,” Johnny argued.

“Neither did he, at the end.”

“One, you’re disturbing, and two, you know what I meant,” Johnny said. He took a deep breath. “Love can touch us one time! And last for! A lifetiiiiiiiime!”

Peter nudged at his fingers with one foot. “I’m ready to let go now, Jack.”

“Shut the hell up, Rose.”

 

* * *

 

The elevator doors had only just closed when Peter dropped from the ceiling. Johnny jumped, hand clutched to his chest.

“Jesus!” he said. “How long have you been up there?”

“An hour or two,” Peter said. “I had a book. Hey, let’s dance!”

“Little crowded for it,” Johnny said, but Peter was already spinning him around as the floors ticked down. Without so much as glancing away, Peter pulled Johnny close and pushed the hold button in one smooth movement. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Love. And whatever Reed puts in that special coffee blend. Hey, so I had a great idea for our first dance,” Peter said.

“Oh?” Johnny said. Peter had the nerve to actually dip him, bending low, their hands clasped like a pair of tango dancers. “I thought we agreed on Crazy Love. On account of the fact that you’re insane, obviously.”

“Yeah, but then I heard the moloid kids listening to this song,” Peter said. He cleared his throat. “A-hem-hem. You’re insecure, don’t know what for –”

“Oh no,” Johnny said, eyes wide.

“I like how you know what it is from the first line,” Peter said, grinning. “You’re turning heads when you walk through the do~or! Don’t need makeup, to cover up! Being the way that you are is enough!”

“Let me go, I want off this ride,” Johnny said, laughing. “The moloids were listening to this?”

“The moloids were making _Ben_ listen to this,” Peter said. “I think Tong has a crush.”

He pulled Johnny back up, swaying back and forth a little. Johnny went with it grudgingly, groaning as Peter continued to caterwaul.

“Everyone else in the room can see it! Everyone else but you –”

“I can’t believe you insulted my singing,” Johnny said. “You sound like somebody strangled a depressed sea lion.”

“Baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,” Peter said, pitching his voice low. He sounded a little less strangled depressed sea lion all of a sudden. “But when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell…”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Johnny said, slapping his palm over Peter’s mouth. The smile that pulled at his mouth wasn’t something he could control. Peter kissed his palm, messy and wet. “Stop, you’re gross.”

“Right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe,” Peter mumbled against his palm. “You don’t know.”

Johnny ducked his head, laughing softly.

“This never leaves this elevator.”

 

* * *

 

“Why would you even _suggest_ Kung Fu Fighting?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/146132198089/whats-the-spideytorch-wedding-song
> 
> In order, the songs are:  
> Kokomo/The Beach Boys  
> Let's Get It On/Marvin Gaye  
> My Heart Will Go On/Celine Dion  
> What Makes You Beautiful/One Direction  
> and Kung Fu Fighting/Carl Douglas
> 
> also mentioned: It's My Party/Leslie Gore and Crazy Love/Van Morrison.


	27. Ulysses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Okay but WHAT IF ULYSSES TELLS PETER THAT SPIDERMAN IS GOING TO KILL JOHNNY.
> 
> General spoilers for Civil War II's premise, takes place immediately after the bed scene of Civil War II: Amazing Spider-Man #1 (which, if you haven't read the comic where Peter Parker finds Johnny Storm naked in his bed -- now you know it exists.)

“Hello, Spider-Man,” Medusa said, straight-backed and regal. “It seems you’re about to get a firsthand example of the accuracy of Ulysses’ visions.”

“As in, I just had one,” the kid next to her – Peter was going to go ahead and assume he was the famous Ulysses – said, right before a strange look passed over his face, like the twinge of a headache.

His gaze turned, horrified, to Peter. He had a second’s buzzing warning from his spider-sense before the kid barreled forward, getting between him and Johnny. Johnny, flailing backwards, flamed off to avoid burning him and ended up on the ground, staring bewildered up at Ulysses, who was standing in front of him like a man bun-wearing guard dog.

“Stay down, Mr. Storm!” he said. “Spider-Man’s going to kill you!”

There was one stunned moment of silence before Johnny burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Ulysses cried, hands balled into fists. “I saw it. He’s going to kill you.”

Like that was they needed, the Inhumans assembled, Medusa’s hair creeping out like she intended to restrain Peter, Lockjaw’s teeth bared. Energy crackled like lightning

“I,” Peter said, stunned, hands held out in front of him. “I would _never_ –”

“Ulysses doesn’t see falsely,” Medusa promised. “Step away, Spider-Man.”

In a daze, Peter stepped back.

“Wait,” Johnny said, staggering to his feet. He flamed on again, waving off Medusa’s extended hand. “Wait. Everyone, just back off. I need a moment with Spider-Man.”

“No,” said Medusa. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” said Johnny. “Ulysses, did you – did you see him killing me right now? Did you?”

“No,” Ulysses said slowly, looking heartbreakingly unsure. He was really just a kid, Peter thought, short nails biting into his palms through his gloves. “No, it was – it was dark, and…”

“Stop,” Johnny said, looking nauseated. Peter felt the same way. “Just – it wasn’t here. So it’s fine. Everyone, back off.”

“This is foolish,” Medusa told him, eyes blazing.

“Well, that’s me, isn’t it?” Johnny said. He turned to look at Peter. “Spidey – come on. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Well. He’s protective,” Peter said when they were alone in his bedroom. He turned his back obligingly so Johnny could change. There was no teasing, not after what Ulysses had said.

“He’s just a kid. He’s scared,” Johnny said. “The Inhumans – they try, but they walk into those mists and change themselves by choice. So they don’t get it, not the same way. I know what it’s like to wind up this way by freak accident.”

“You’re nice to him,” Peter said.

“I’m nice to everybody,” Johnny replied. “Pete? Look at me?”

Peter turned. Johnny was standing a careful few feet away, dressed in his slick black and gold uniform. Peter heard it, an endless ringing: _Stay down, Mr. Storm. Spider-Man’s going to kill you._

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” Johnny confessed.

“You said he sees the future,” Peter said, hands held helplessly out in front of him. He wondered if Ulysses had seen Johnny’s blood on them.

“We said he saw things,” Johnny corrected stubbornly.

“You said the future,” Peter said. “You believe in him.”

Johnny whirled on his heel, throwing up his hands. Little candlelight flames flickered at the end of his hair. “Possibilities, then! Like, what-ifs! He can’t see the future because –”

“He said I kill you,” Peter said. “So now you don’t believe him?”

Johnny made a frustrated noise, turning towards him. “Now I know he can’t be right all of the time, anyway!”

“Why?” Peter pressed. “Because he saw something about you?”

“Because you would never hurt me!” Johnny said, scoffing, like it was the world’s most obvious truth. The belief in his voice shook Peter to the core.

He was right. Under normal circumstances, he was right. Peter, of his own free will and volition, would never have hurt him. But those were the key words: of his own free will and volition. Ulysses hadn’t said, “Spider-Man, you will kill Johnny Storm while fully in control of yourself and your actions.”

Ulysses had just said, “Stay down, Mr. Storm. Spider-Man’s going to kill you.” And now Peter was running over the list in his head: mind control, someone else pulling his strings. A hallucinogenic substance, him seeing things that weren’t there, striking out. Body swap. Take him out, put someone else in. Otto had done it; why couldn’t it happen again? And Johnny, who believed in him so unshakably, would never see it coming.

The bridge. A whirl of green coat and blonde hair as Gwen fell backwards. The catch of the webbing, the snap of her neck. An accident.

All the possibilities that came to Peter’s mind were cruel, but that one seemed the cruelest yet. He couldn’t let it happen again.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You’re going to go, right now. You’re going to turn around and leave the building. Stay with the Inhumans. And you’re not going to see me for a while. Not until it’s safe.”

“It is safe!” Johnny protested. “I’m not scared of you, Peter. I don’t care if every precognitive Inhuman or mutant or whatever tells me the same thing, I know it’s not going to happen.”

“You’re not listening,” Peter said. “You said I’m not going to hurt you? This is me, not hurting you. Get out of here. And don’t come around me again until every single one of those precognitive Inhumans and mutants and whatevers tells you, unanimously, that it’s safe.”

Johnny made a wordless, frustrated noises, hands curling into fists. Peter was prepared for him to hit him.

He was not prepared for the kiss. It was hard and hungry, Johnny angry and eager and desperate. Peter wasn’t going to touch him, he wasn’t going to take even the smallest chance, but of their own accord his hands ended up hauling Johnny closer, kissing back, deeper, hotter, _more_.

It wasn’t fair. They had been bickering just fifteen minutes before. And now here Peter was, ordering Johnny to stay away from him.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Johnny said.

Peter closed his eyes and promised, _no, I’m not._

“Go,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/146330535804/okay-but-what-if-ulysses-tells-peter-that


	28. Sue & Johnny childhood fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Couuuuuuld you write a fic with Johnny and Sue? That page you reblogged of them has me craving for those two doing family stuff, just the two of them.
> 
> Two points for Johnny and Sue backstory:
> 
> 1) Sometimes, after their parents are out of the picture, Johnny and Sue live with their aunt and winner of the Marvel’s Best Name Award, Marygay Jewel Dinkins. Sometimes they live on their own! Sometimes both?? Comics!
> 
> 2) I’m not sure it’s ever mentioned how much older than Johnny Sue is – it varies from canon to canon – but for 616 I always figure there’s about a 7-8 year age gap.

Johnny broke his arm when he was ten years old, and Sue sat in the ER and thought, _I can’t do this._

It was her fault. She fell asleep on the couch in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. He went into the yard and tried to scale the big tree back there and fell and broke his own arm. He hadn’t cried, just sat there on the grass looking stunned, face bloodless and grey, as she rushed into the yard and got him up and into the car and, her mind on autopilot, drove him to the ER.

It was only when she went to get a cup of lukewarm vending machine coffee, an hour later, that she realized her hands were shaking.

“Hey,” the nurse behind the counter said, looking at her with increasing pity. Humiliation crept prickling and hot up the back of Sue’s neck. “Aren’t you Dr. Storm’s daughter?”

 

* * *

 

There was a way Sue’s life was supposed to go. It had seemed set in stone from the time she was a child. She’d grow up both pretty and smart, she’d be effortlessly popular, she’d graduate high school and go to college and think, briefly, about being an actress or a model, but ultimately she’d follow in her father’s footsteps. She’d marry a good man and have two children and live somewhere with picket fences and lots of dogs.

Sue stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching a mug of Sleepy Time tea that wasn’t doing its job, and watched Johnny, sleeping on the couch. He’d collapsed as soon as they got home. His cast is blindingly white even in the dark. _So much for that_ , she thought.

He was so small on the couch, all skinny, breakable limbs, slowly rising and falling skinny, breakable chest. He had their mother’s soft curls.

He could have broken a leg. He could have snapped his neck. He could have cracked his skull open.

 _He’s just a kid_ , she told herself. _He was bored. It’s your fault._

Her tea was cold. She couldn’t swallow it anyway, too much dread in her throat. He was just a kid, and she was supposed to be paying attention, and now he was hurt.

 _I could leave,_ Sue thought to herself, a sudden realization creeping over her. She could get in the car right now and just drive. She’d go to California, like she’d always wanted to, and she could be that actress or model she would have ultimately dismissed in the life she should have had. She could call Aunt Mary from a payphone somewhere. She’d have to take Johnny full-time, if there weren’t any other options.

If Sue removed herself from being an option.

She pictured it, whiteknuckled, for a minute: pushing the little red car out in the garage far past the speed limit, wind in her hair, night air in her lungs. The way the sunlight would feel on her skin when she had nothing to worry about but herself.

“Sue?” Johnny called, sleepily, from the couch.

Sue breathed out, slow. She left the mug abandoned on the coffee table, settling down on the floor in front of him.

“Hey, Pipsqueak,” she said.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

She pushed her fingers into his hair, carding it back from his face. “Nah. Not at you.”

“Mmkay,” he said, eyes slipping shut again, tiny little smile on his face. It took so little to make him happy. Sue didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. “My arm hurts.”

“Don’t fall out of any more trees, then,” she said, still combing her fingers through his hair. “Go to sleep.”

“Can we draw on my cast in the morning?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, kiddo,” she said, settling down with her head resting against the sofa’s arm. “We can draw on your cast in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/146334382404/couuuuuuld-you-write-a-fic-with-johnny-and-sue
> 
> The mentioned page is here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/146017854964/flyntwardtheweedlord-fantastic-four-520


	29. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: spideytorch prompt: johnny accidentally burns peter while being *ahem* intimate, and feels extremely guilty and refuses to continue despite peter's reassurances? (idk I Just got some feels recently)_
> 
>  
> 
> Set during the end of Fraction's run (F4 v4) when the FF are all slowly losing control of their powers, in an AU where Peter went on the great space roadtrip.

“Wait,” Johnny groaned, squirming underneath Peter. “Wait, I feel weird.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter joked, hips still working. They’d set the pace hard and fast after Johnny, furious with everyone, had practically bitten his head off earlier. Peter got it, though – the need to lose yourself in something physical. There might not have been room to race on the ship, but Johnny seemed to think putting Peter’s stamina to the test was a good substitute. Peter wouldn’t lie to himself and say that it didn’t loosen some of the worry caught up in his own chest, Johnny familiar and tight and hot around and underneath him. “ _That’s_ real sexy, that’s what I want to hear –”

Johnny’s hand wrapped, firm, around his wrist. “Stop.”

Every muscle in Peter’s body went still so fast he forgot how to breathe for a second. “What’s wrong?”

Johnny’s eyes were hazy and faraway. “I don’t know, I – do I feel hot to you?”

Peter huffed out a breath, smiling in spite of himself. “An inferno. Like always.”

“No, I –” Johnny started, but Peter didn’t hear the rest of what he said, thrown off by the sudden sharp buzz of his spider-sense, here, where it had never belonged. _Danger_ , it said, every instinct screaming at him to get back, when away from Johnny was the opposite of where he ever wanted to be.

His spider-sense doubled. Johnny gasped.

The sheets caught fire.

It took Peter a few seconds to realize what had happened. He was on the floor. Johnny was on the bed. Johnny’s hands were blazing. The sheets were singed. Peter’s head spun, his senses buzzed. His wrist stung.

“I don’t,” Johnny said, staring down at his own bonfire hands. “I can’t…”

Peter opened his mouth, but for once in his life he couldn’t get any words out.

Then the screaming started.

Peter moved without thinking, tossing the bottom half of Johnny’s uniform at him. He grabbed what remained of the bedsheet, knotting it around his waist, and then sprinted from the room.

Ben was in the hall. At least, Peter thought it was Ben. It was Ben’s eyes underneath the dripping gore.

Peter had seen a lot of terrible things in the past fifteen years, but Ben’s skin melting off him topped the list. He had to steel himself to keep from being sick.

He tuned back in just time in to hear Johnny’s muffled gasp as he came up behind him, to hear Val shout, “ – his entire epidermal layer!” and Reed’s sharp, “Stay focused, Val, work the problem!”

He wanted to put his hands over Val’s eyes, but that would probably only end with her biting him. Sue was on it, though, shouting, grabbing at Val.

Reed’s arm was lying coiled, useless, on the ground. Patches were missing from Sue as she spirited the kids from the room. Peter’s whole being reeled.

“John,” Reed said, a one word order.

“I can’t,” Johnny said, sounding broken. “Ben, I can’t. I – damn, I guess you could get uglier, huh?”

Ben’s reply came out too burbled for Peter to make out, mouth sliding, face melting. Johnny held his blazing hands helplessly between them.

Peter’s senses twinged as someone came up on his right and familiar-not-familiar hands lifted his arm. Old John stared down at his wrist, white hair a soft fall over his forehead, the mask’s big blank eyes oddly soft in the gloom.

“You’re burned,” he said in his strange dry version of Johnny’s voice, settling his palm over the worst of it. Coolness seeped into Peter’s skin as Old John sapped at the excess heat.

Johnny’s head snapped up. His eyes met Old John’s; something passed between them, accusing on Old John’s side, guilty on Johnny’s. Johnny’s gaze fell to the floor.

Still, still, Peter couldn’t find any words.

“Tell me something just clicked, Reed,” Johnny said.

“You’re all going to die, aren’t you?” Val asked, little voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder, sounding, for once, like the little girl she actually was.

Old John’s fingers ghosted, gently, almost lovingly, up Peter’s arm.

“Not yet,” he said. “I know what’s wrong. And I know how to fix it.”

 

* * *

 

“Wyatt,” Peter said, coming up behind Johnny and wrapping his arms around his waist. Johnny went stiff in the circle of his arms. “Mind if I borrow the future American Idol over here?”

“Pretty sure it’s your prerogative,” Wyatt smirked.

“Yeah, but I like to be polite,” Peter said.

“Take over the barbecue for a few?” Johnny asked Wyatt, elbowing Peter in the stomach. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Peter asked as they stepped away from the party, heading back to the Watcher’s home.

“Stop – that!” Johnny said, struggling as Peter swung him up into his arms just before they hit the threshold.

“Mm, no, sorry, no can do,” Peter said. He dumped Johnny onto one of the Watcher’s huge, low sofas, settling over him on his hands and knees. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie –”

“Peter,” Johnny said, scowling, hands held between them, but not actually touching Peter. “Knock it off.”

“Hey,” Peter said, carding Johnny’s hair back from his forehead. The last time he’d touched Johnny he’d been wearing Reed’s special oven mitts, holding his burning body down so his sister could try and stitch him closed while he screamed. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He’d always been a touchy guy. Words might fail him – it was too easy to deflect with jokes and jibes, to let his meaning get lost behind his tone. But his hands and his body had never lied to Johnny: _You’re my best friend. I love you. I need you._

Johnny swallowed hard, frowning. “We should go back out there. I love Wyatt, but I trust him with that grill about as far as I can throw him –”

“Give me a minute,” Peter said, taking Johnny’s hand in his own and pressing it to his face, lips against the center of his palm. Johnny jerked, fingers spasming; Peter’s grip tightened on instinct. He had to force himself to loosen his fingers. “What? What’s wrong? I know this is the Watcher’s place, but I figure since the big toga-wearing voyeur’s always watching anyway…”

“Stop it,” Johnny said, pulling his hand away from Peter’s face. The tone of his voice made Peter flinch; something softened in Johnny’s face. He made to sit up, so Peter rocked back on his heels. Johnny reached for his hand; Peter gave it to him willingly.

Johnny held Peter’s hand palm up in one of his, and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around his wrist.

“I burned you,” he said. “Right here. I had my hand wrapped around your wrist, and then…”

Oh. Peter remembered, now.

“It’s healed already,” he said. He fumbled between them, pulling his glove down and pushing up his sleeve. “Look. See? Fine.”

“It was what, second degree?” Johnny asked, scowling down at Peter’s unmarked skin.

“Geez, Torch, if I had to count all the second degree burns I’ve had in my lifetime…” Peter said, snorting.

“Not from me, though,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “Even when we were stupid kids joking around, what’s the worst I ever did? Singed your costume?”

“You weren’t in control,” Peter said. “You don’t see Ben blaming himself for getting melted skin all over the carpet, do you?”

Johnny’s head jerked up. “That’s not the same! Sue faded out in patches, and Reed dragged his arm around like spaghetti, and Ben fell apart, and _I burned you_. Which one of those doesn’t belong?”

“It’s over, it’s fine,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You didn’t really hurt me. Spider-sense, remember?”

Except he hadn’t really moved fast enough, too thrown by the buzz in his head when he’d least expected it. He kept his mouth shut about that one. It didn’t matter; Johnny knew him too well.

“I burned you,” Johnny repeated, scowling at him. “What if it hadn’t just been my hands? What if all of me had gone up?”

“Other, more sensitive parts of my anatomy would have eventually healed, too,” Peter said, trying for joking. Johnny didn’t laugh. Johnny didn’t so much as blink. Peter sighed, moving with exaggerated slowness to press his lips to the crease between Johnny’s eyebrows. “Johnny…”

“I know,” Johnny said, pulling away from him. He climbed to his feet, glancing at Peter over his shoulder. “I just need a couple of hours, okay? Maybe a day.”

“Sure,” Peter said, feeling numb. He practically had to sit on his hands to keep himself for reaching for Johnny again. _Don’t touch him_ , he thought. He would have rather run the full gauntlet of his villains with blindfolded with one hand behind his back.

“I’m going back out there,” Johnny said. “It’s a party, right? Coming?”

“In a minute,” Peter said. Johnny opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, and left the Watcher’s home.

Peter sagged back against the low cushions, pushing his hands up into his hair.

“Great,” he said to himself, shutting his eyes. “Had to be radioactive, didn’t it? Couldn’t have been bitten by an asbestos spider, huh?”

There was, predictably, no answer. Peter sighed and pushed himself up off the couch.

“What he said,” he muttered to himself, heading back towards the sounds of laughter. “It’s a party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/147007848364/spideytorch-prompt-johnny-accidentally-burns


	30. 1(D) (F)4 All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked: prompt idea: johnny loves 1d and he was devastated when zayn left... what does peter think about this_ , in response to that tumblr post about how aliens told Zayn to leave in the band. Also, I love the Future Foundation kids.

“Explain the building full of crying children to me again, and use smaller words this time.”

Johnny huffed, cracking open a soda. In the living room, Tong let out a garbled sob and flopped, melodramatically, across the sofa. Onome blew her nose on a tissue. Val looked vaguely disgusted.

Bentley-23 was lying face down on the floor.

“Okay, so, One Direction –”

“That’s a band, right?” Peter cut in, stretching his hands high above his head. There was a huge chunk missing out of the side of his costume. Johnny wasn’t even going to ask.

“Yes, it’s a band, and by the way the only reason I know you don’t live under a rock is because half your stuff is in my room –”

“They do that Beautiful song, right, about how the girl looks prettier without makeup, because let me tell you, I said that to Betty once when I was in high school and I thought she was going to throw her computer at me –”

“Do you want me to explain, or do you want to tell me about how bad you are at complimenting people?” Johnny threw over his shoulder, rooting around in the freezer. “Because I already know firsthand that you’re terrible at it.”

Peter grinned and fluttered his eyelashes. “I think _you_ look beautiful without makeup, too.”

“I hate you,” Johnny said, dumping a carton of ice cream on the counter. “Okay, so, One Direction –”

“That’s the one with the guy with the hair who was dating the blonde girl who sings about all her breakups, right?” Peter said.

“What?” Johnny said.

“I read a magazine at the supermarket checkout once,” Peter admitted.

“Have you ever considered webbing your own mouth shut?”

“I’m so lucky to have such a kind, loving, emotionally supportive partner,” Peter said, wrapping one arm around Johnny and tugging him closer, mostly so he could snatch his drink out of his hand. “So I get the feeling something happened with One Direction.”

“Do not speak the name!” hissed Mik, trudging with great resignation to the fridge. “Do not speak the name of the boys with the soft and melodious voices!”

Peter waited, patiently, for Mik to leave with the rest of the ice cream before he continued, “So I’m getting the feeling something bad happened to the boys with the soft and melodious voices.”

“Zayn left the band,” Johnny said, grabbing his drink back.

“No,” Peter gasped. “Say it ain’t so! Not _Zayn_!”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Is that the blond one?” Peter asked. “Is there a blond one? There’s always a blond one, right? It’s why they let you up on a stage.”

“No Zayn is not “the blond one”, get off of me,” Johnny said. Peter just laughed and hauled him closer, chin planted on his shoulder.

“Okay, so. Zayn left the beautiful pop band, and that’s why half the kids are rending their clothes,” Peter said. “Got it. And you’re in a mood, because?”

“I’m not in a mood,” Johnny huffed.

“Jonathan. Sweetheart. Darling. Angel of my morning. You’re wearing sweatpants and drinking a root beer float that I am now strongly suspecting you spiked when I wasn’t looking. It’s one in the afternoon.”

“So?” Johnny said.

“So clearly I have never met you before in my life,” Peter said. “Johnny. Are you upset about Zayn?”

“I –” Johnny started, only for Peter to burst into laughter. He clutched at Johnny, hiding his face against his shoulder.

“You are! You’re upset about One Direction.”

“The kids are upset about One Direction!” Johnny protested.

“And you are, apparently, one of them. This is amazing. You are fourteen years old inside. I robbed the emotional maturity cradle.”

“Okay, you know what?” Johnny said, elbowing at Peter until he let go. “Kids! Spider-Man says he’s _glad_ Zayn left! He says he hopes they all leave and 1D breaks up forever!”

There was a terrifying moment of dead silence from the other room as six tiny heads swiveled in unison.

“Oh no,” Peter said, taking one careful step backward.

“Yeah, I figure you’ve got about ten seconds. Use ‘em.”

Peter ran for it, muttering to himself as he went, “But why is Alex Power crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/147202641659/prompt-idea-johnny-loves-1d-and-he-was-devastated


	31. PokeGo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: Who do you think would be more obsessed with Pokemon Go, Johnny or Peter?_

**Millennial Menaces Descend On City, Reports Daily Bugle. Is Spider-Man At Fault? Sources Say Yes!**

“How do you have so many!” 

Johnny jumped on his back, arms around his neck, and Peter pretended to rock with the impact, grunting. He grabbed at Johnny’s thigh with his free hand, squeezing, and kept the other on his phone.

“Um, as the single most active person in New York, I have a lot – A LOT – of opportunity,” Peter said, grinning. Johnny’s hair tickled his cheek. “I am, actually, the very best, like no one ever was.”

Johnny groaned.

“To catch them is my real test!” Peter laughed. “To train them is my – oh hey, a Geodude. I’ll name him Ben. Stop squirming, I’ll drop you.” 

“I just want to see your Pokemon!” Johnny said. Peter let him slip from his grasp and only when they had both settled down on the rooftop did he hand over his phone. “You have so many! What the hell.” 

“I swing around the whole city pretty much every day,” Peter said. “I mean, I have to take it a little slower than usual, but – and this is ludicrous – I actually think the city is too busy catching Pokemon to continue its personal crusade against me specifically, so hey. Pokemon!” 

Johnny pouted down at the phone. “You have a Charmander and you didn’t name him after me. Relationship over.”

“Next fire type, I promise,” Peter said, grinning. He made grabby motions. “Okay, I showed you mine, skip the joke and hand over the phone.”

Johnny’s dark blush took a moment to register. The grin that spread over Peter’s face was uncontrollable; he tried in vain to school it.

“Johnny,” he said. “Do you not have it…?”

“My flying speed doesn’t register,” Johnny muttered, scowling when Peter burst out laughing. “It’s not funny! I haven’t done this much walking in forever!”

“Poor baby,” Peter said, still snickering. 

“And it was glitching, it kept kicking me off, and – I deleted it, okay,” Johnny huffed. 

Peter, still laughing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe, touched his fingers to Johnny’s face and pressed their mouths together. Johnny relented against him grudgingly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to the guy who was in the thirtieth century last weekend: you need to join the future.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny mumbled. “I’ll download it again and I’m going to be so much better at it than you…”

“Pull up in your car full of cheerleaders, why don’t you?” Peter said, smiling against his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/147430200144/who-do-you-think-would-be-more-obsessed-with


	32. "I'm not going to apologize for this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _swingsetindecember asked: peter parker - "I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore." but it's his pinterest account_

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Peter said, rubbing at his forehead. “Me, I’m going to go throw myself off the Empire State Building. Would you stop?”

“No,” Johnny said. “I thought the collection of New Yorker cartoons about yourself was embarrassing, but this – is this from when I was seventeen? You’re filthy.”

“I was sixteen when that photo of you was taken, thanks,” Peter said, leaning over Johnny’s shoulder. The picture in question had been from some teen magazine, Johnny seventeen and golden in the tropical sun, holding a surfboard and wearing half a wetsuit. “Whoever styled you for this was a pervert. Do you even know how to surf?”

“Does it matter?” Johnny asked, still snickering. He twisted around to bite at Peter’s lower lip, one hand in his hair. “You have a whole thing of my photos saved. This is so embarrassing for you.”

“I’m a photographer,” Peter said, fighting for both control of the kiss and his tablet back. “Those were saved in a purely professional capacity.”

Johnny pulled up another shot, more recent. He was naked, a sheet just barely draped over him. Sparks danced around him, highlighting the lean cut of his hips and those long, strong legs. His lips were parted, just so.

“I liked the lighting,” Peter said stoically.

“How long have you had these?” Johnny asked, clearly delighted.

“How long have you been taking your clothes off any time someone turns a camera your way?” Peter shot back.

“Oh no, I’m not trial here,” Johnny said. “You have an entire collection of photos of me! Some of them are even clothed. You do respect me after all. Do you have a thing for me, Spider-Man?”

“We live together,” Peter said. “I have Mary Jane’s modeling photos saved, too.”

“That’s different,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes.

“How?” Peter demanded. “You know what, no. I’m not going to apologize for this. Not anymore.”

“Was there a first apology in there?” Johnny asked. He flipped through another couple of photos and his grin turned sly. “Mr. Parker, you dog. The desert hooker photos? All of them?”

“The what?” Peter said. Johnny flipped over the tablet. “You call that shoot what?”

“The internet called it the desert hooker shoot, actually,” Johnny said. “Though I think Ben started it. I just happen to agree that’s what it looks like.”

Peter made a faint noise of disgust, finally grabbing his tablet back when Johnny shifted to straddle him.

“Stop faking,” he said. “You obviously liked it, or you wouldn’t have saved every photo. It was a good look, right? Should I bring it back?”

“I know where you’re going with this,” Peter said, tossing the tablet down on the bedspread and grabbing Johnny by the hips.

“I hope so, cowboy,” Johnny said, grinning when Peter rolled his eyes. “Give me a ride?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148901402004/peter-parker-im-not-going-to-apologise-for


	33. "Must be hard with your sense of direction."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _lay-it-on-me-lahey asked: 29 (It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line) + spideytorch, if it strikes your fancy? :)_
> 
> Caterer!Johnny/Teacher!Peter AU

“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line,” Johnny said, sighing dramatically.

“Ha comma ha,” Peter said. “I’ve got you already, what do I need pickup lines for? I’m being serious – that smells amazing. What is it?

“Family obligation, so hands off,” Johnny said. He made no effort to get away from Peter, though, leaning back into his embrace. Peter nipped at Johnny’s ear. “There was some trouble with the caterers that were supposed to take care of Alicia’s show tonight, so Ben nagged me into stepping in.”

“Last minute?” Peter said.

“What choice do I have?” Johnny said. “Throw a box of saltines at Ben’s head and say, too bad?”

“I have literally seen you do that, though,” Peter said. Johnny grumbled something under his breath. “Okay, how can I help? Anything need chopping, mixing, my general ineptitude?”

“Nah,” Johnny said, stretching his arms high above his head. He untied his apron – I DON’T COOK ON DAYS THAT END IN Y – and tossed it towards a chair. “But I have a twenty minute window and a lot of family resentment I could use a distraction from.”

“And flour in your hair,” Peter pointed out.

“Shower?” Johnny said.

“If I have to,” Peter said, faking a long sigh. “Can I add to the resentment?”

“Why?” Johnny asked, shedding his shirt in the hall. Peter followed after him, catching him in the bathroom doorway. He pressed him back and kissed him long and deep, hands at Johnny’s bare waist.

He waited until Johnny was thoroughly distracted to admit, “So I lost a bet with one of the PTA moms and I owe her lemon bars for the bake sale.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes at him.

“I love you?” Peter tried, grinning.

“This better be one hell of a shower,” Johnny said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148914514134/29-spideytorch-if-it-strikes-your-fancy


	34. "I'm not losing you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked: 43 (I'm not losing you again)_ \-- established relationship set during the end of Robinson's run, right after depowered Johnny rips himself out of Peter's grip to save Valeria.

“I’m staying with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Johnny said, tilting his forehead against Peter’s. “Go, protect the city. Do your thing.”

“You need me more,” Peter said, but Johnny could hear in his voice that he knew it wasn’t true. Peter always chose the greater good. That was the best thing about him.

“I lost my powers. Doesn’t make me helpless,” Johnny said. He glanced over at Val. “I think I just proved that.”

Peter barked out a harsh laugh. “If you ever do that to me again, I’ll –”

“You’ll what?” Johnny said, grinning. “Does it involve webbing?”

“Smart mouth,” Peter said. He rubbed his hands up and down Johnny’s arms, like he was trying to coax his old warmth back into his skin. He’d been doing that a lot, the past few weeks. Even when they’d been fighting. Even when Johnny had made things horrible for him.

Even when he and Wyatt had dragged Johnny drunk out of that party. Peter had held him on that rooftop, hand a gentle brace against his stomach, keeping him from the edge.

“It’s why you love me,” Johnny said. He swallowed hard. “I do, you know – still love you.”

“Oh,” Peter breathed, hand to Johnny’s cheek. “I know. Of course I know.”

“So you’re going,” Johnny said, grinning at him. Peter made a frustrated noise. “Stop pretending you’re not going. You are. City needs you.” Softer, he added, “I know it doesn’t mean you don’t want to be with me. I was angry when I said those things. I’m not angry anymore.”

He still felt shaky, uncertain, bereft without his powers, and gravity still pulled at him, crushingly heavy. But he wasn’t going to be angry anymore. He wasn’t going to cut himself off.

Peter still hesitated a moment. Johnny waited him out.

“I can’t,” Peter said, shaking his head, “I’m not losing you again.”

Johnny closed his eyes.

“I came back once,” he said. “You have to trust me to do it again.”

“You, I trust,” Peter said. “It’s the rest of the universe that has it out for me.”

“I have to go,” Johnny said. “Family needs me. City needs you.”

Finally, with one off-center through-the-mask kiss, Peter shot a webline across the street, braced to take off. He glanced over his shoulder, big blank mask eyes pleading.

“I am not losing you again!” he said, snapping his fingers. “You hear me? Anything happens to you –”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Johnny promised. “Go already!”

How Peter managed to mime strangling him while swinging away, Johnny would never know. He watched him go, then took a deep breath, picking his way through the rubble towards Sue.

Powers or no powers, it was time to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148947467369/43-or-6-but-i-kind-of-want-6-for-the-gilmore


	35. stop and feel the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _weekend-conspiracy-theorist asked: 81 spideytorch (We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?) <3_ The actual desert hooker AU.

They’d been on the road together two days when the car broke down. Johnny tried – it was the whole reason Peter picked him up from the side of the road in the first place, because Johnny promised he knew cars, and Peter needed someone who could actually drive.

That was not, strictly, the whole truth. Peter picked Johnny up because Johnny needed a ride, and because when Peter had looked at Johnny, standing by the side of the road with that sun-bleached hair and those eyes and that mouth – Peter looked at him and his heart started dancing the tango. 

That part, though, made him feel like a terrible person, so he did his best to quash it down.

“Well good news is, I can fix it,” Johnny said, chewing at his bottom lip. “Bad news is, I think we’re walking to that gas station we passed a mile back.”

Peter couldn’t get a signal on his phone. Sighing, he pocketed it. “If I die on the way there, just let the vultures have me.”

“That’s what I like about you, Peter Parker,” Johnny said, closing the hood. “You’re so optimistic.”

Johnny, Peter knew, was hitching to get to his sister’s place in Connecticut. She was pregnant, he said. It wasn’t going well, he said. Things between him and his sister had been rough, he said. She didn’t approve of things he’d done.

“I want to make it up to her,” he’d confessed, worrying at a thumbnail. “In case – anything else goes wrong.”

“It won’t,” Peter had said, though of course that was a promise he couldn’t make. He’d always hated to see a stranger in distress, though.

Especially when the stranger in question looked like Johnny.

“That’s a nice thought,” Johnny had said, head tilted just so with his long eyelashes lowered. Peter had thought from the moment Johnny got in his car that if he leaned over the cupholder, Johnny would let him. It tied his stomach all up in knots, thinking about it.

He was going to hell, probably.

“And what are you doing out here?” Johnny had asked.

“Oh, you know,” Peter said, secure in the knowledge that the costume was hidden beneath the mat in the car’s trunk. “I’m a photojournalist. Just out here on an assignment.”

They were halfway to the gas station, trudging along, when the storm clouds rolled in. Peter continued his one man game of I Spy (Johnny had refused to play along) long enough to say, “I spy with my little eye… something that definitely looks like rain.”

Then the skies opened up. Parker Luck in action.

Peter cursed, cringing, as the raindrops pelting them. “Great. Guess we should run for – Johnny?”

Johnny was laughing, face tilted up to the sky. He spun in a circle, arms outstretched.

“This feels amazing!” he said. “Doesn’t this feel great?”

“This feels like the beginning of a warning story about pneumonia,” Peter said, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders drawn up. Johnny looked amazing though, pure unbound joy, his hair stuck to his forehead and his shirt practically transparent.

“Definitely going to hell,” Peter said to himself. Louder, “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?"

The sky above echoed with thunder. Johnny grinned at Peter, holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Be spontaneous.”

What the hell, Peter thought to himself, and took Johnny’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148963397879/81-spideytorch-3


	36. "I can't do this without you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _amaronith asked: SpiderTorch, Prompt 76 (“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”) please?_

Johnny wasn’t even the one who got the call. I wasn’t the worst part of it by a longshot, but it was the part that stung, sitting in the Avengers’ medical bay with a cup of lukewarm coffee he couldn’t be bothered to reheat dangling between his knees.

Peter was his husband, and Peter was lying still and barely breathing, and the Avengers had called Sue.

Hank McCoy was babbling at him like he knew or cared about his medical term bullshit. He got the gist of it, anyway: they couldn’t get Peter to wake up.

“Why?” he asked, first thing he’d said since he laid eyes on Peter, stretched out and ashen, still like Peter never, ever was. He cut Hank off in the middle of a sentence, but he didn’t care - he wanted an answer.

“Ah,” Hank said, fiddling with his glasses. “Well. I suspect if we knew that, Jonathan, we’d have found a way to wake him.”

Johnny lifted his head to glare at him, talking to him like he didn’t live with the smartest man on the planet. Like he wasn’t married to a close runner-up.

“Reed,” he said.

“Johnny?” Sue said, hand at his elbow. Hank McCoy lifted one fuzzy blue brow.

“I want Reed to doublecheck everything,” Johnny said. He looked at Sue. “Call Reed.”

“Of course,” Hank said, inclining his head. His fur looked a little ruffled.

“Johnny,” Sue said quietly. “The Avengers have some of the best minds on the planet -”

“Reed’s the best mind on the planet,” Johnny said, turning a gaze he couldn’t be sure wasn’t sparking on her. Sue squeezed his shoulder, her mouth a grim line.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll call him right now, alright? Hank, can we sit with him?”

“Of course,” Hank said, gesturing with one huge paw. “In fact I’d recommend it.”

Johnny turned a glare on him, almost smelling the singed fur, but Sue simply closed her hand over his elbow and escorted him behind the curtain. Then there he was, at Peter’s bedside. Peter’s face was drained of color, messy hair brushed back from his forehead. The rise and fall of his chest was so slight.

Peter didn’t look like he was unconscious. Peter looked like he was dead.

Johnny couldn’t breathe.

He turned on his heel and left the room. Sue said his name, but it was like he was hearing her through the rush of a bonfire. He couldn’t think of anything but the lazy way Peter had kissed him awake that morning, the way Johnny had shoved at him, groggy in the early morning light.

“Gotta go, honey,” Peter had said. “Big beautiful world to save. You know how these Mondays are.”

“Drop dead,” Johnny had told him, rolling onto his side and pulling a pillow over his head.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said out loud to the empty room.

“Shh, Johnny,” Sue said, catching him by the arm. “Come on, sit down. Didn’t mean what?”

Johnny shook his head, eyes shut tight. “I said something stupid to him, this morning. I wish I’d said something different. I wish I’d told him –”

Sue rubbed at his back, guiding him towards a chair. “Don’t talk like that. He’s been in worse scrapes than this.”

“How can he do this to me?” he asked, hating himself even as he said it. Peter hadn’t done anything to him - Peter hadn’t done anything. He was still lying there, barely breathing. But Johnny felt like he’d had his heart ripped out of his chest.

Sue ran a soothing hand up and down his arm.

“I don’t know,” she said after a very long moment. “How can any of us do this to each other?”

He shook his head, throat too tight. Sue’s hand slid down his arm, then gripped his hand tight.

“I know,” she said. “Believe me, Johnny, I know. I felt the exact same way when you … when I got back and the gate was closed and you were on the wrong side.”

His head snapped up. Sue was staring at the wall, her expression perfectly schooled, so Johnny just shook his head again.

“That’s - that was different,” he said. “The kids were there, Ben, I - I couldn’t leave Ben. You know I could never leave Ben. You would’ve done the same thing.”

“Of course I know that,” Sue said with a great, shuddering breath. She pressed her face briefly into her hands and Johnny realized with a jolt that they’d never talked about it before. Not like this. “In my head. In my heart… do you know what I was thinking about, my trip back home that day? I couldn’t wait to tell you that I was the Uhari’s new regent. I just knew you were going to make some stupid joke about how you were going to be prince of the fish people. And then I got home and the Avengers were in my house and you were gone.”

Johnny nodded slowly, leaning towards Sue. She met him halfway, their slumped shoulders pressed together, his cheek resting on top of her head.

“I’d do it again,” he said. He couldn’t lie about that.

“I know,” Sue said. “I’d go back and do it for you if it wouldn’t rip the timeline in half. So would Reed and Ben. So would Peter.”

Johnny swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. It burned through him like acid, the thought of his family in his place - he was going to be sick. He grabbed Sue’s hand and squeezed.

“Okay. I know,” he said, breathing too quickly through his nose. He had to change the subject. “Quick question?”

“Anything,” she said.

“Am I prince of the fish people?”

Sue snorted. “No.”

They sat there for a long moment, just the easy press of his sister’s shoulder against his own. He tried to sync his breathing up to hers, deep and calming, but only half-managed. When it had been Reed lying still on a bed - and it had, more than once - what had he done for her? He wished he could think of something. He’d never done calm well - he’d always counted on her for that.

“You want coffee?” she asked him. “A sandwich?”

“I can’t eat,” he said, shaking his head.

“You think you can’t,” she said. “But you need to. Trust me, Johnny.”

“Okay,” he said. “Can you…? I can’t leave him.”

“Of course,” she said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

He waited until she was gone, and then he slipped back into Peter’s room. Nothing had changed. He was still just lying there, skin colorless against his costume. Johnny sat down next to him and tried to think of something to say.

If you don’t wake up, I’ll kill you myself came to mind, but it was only funny when Peter sniped back, laughing that wild laugh.

Johnny bit him lip, then leaned over Peter. He was cool to the touch; it struck everything in him as wrong, all the heat curled under his skin protesting anything less than Peter’s normal temperature.

Peter didn’t so much as twitch a finger.

“You need to wake up,” Johnny said, lips moving against Peter’s forehead. “I don’t remember how to do this without you.”

 

* * *

 

It took two days, in the end. Two days of doctors and scientists and psychics sniping at each other while Johnny worried his lip raw and barely slept. He ate only when Sue forced him to, and, sitting by Peter’s bedside late the last night, he’d blearily bought thirty-six watches.

At least he’d charged it to Reed’s card.

They let him be alone with Peter when he woke up, at the end. Johnny suspected there had been some invisible force fields involved in that argument.

It still took hours. They’d told him it would. He’d put his head down against Peter’s chest while he waited, just counting heartbeats, feeling the way his body temperature returned to its normal blaze.

He felt the moment Peter woke up, a jolt through both of them.

Peter’s eyes were bleary, his hair falling over his forehead. He cracked a smile when Johnny lifted his head.

“Hellooo, nurse,” he rasped out. The laugh that tore itself from Johnny was almost painful.

“Really?” he said. “That’s what you’re going to go with?”

“Feisty,” Peter said, waggling his eyebrows and then winced. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

“Stop or I’ll tell them to put you back under,” Johnny said, bending double so he could rest his head against Peter’s chest. Peter snickered, his fingers coming up to comb clumsily through Johnny’s hair. Johnny took one deep shuddering breath and then picked himself up.

Peter snickered. “Whatever you say, Firefly. You get the number of that bus that hit me?”

“Sure I did,” Johnny said. “Think you can drink some water for me?”

“For you?” Peter said with a dopey grin. “Send in the Juggernaut, I’d take him down.”

Johnny snorted, fumbling with the water at the bedside table. His hands were shaking. Peter caught his wrist when he tried to hand him the glass.

“Hey, hey,” Peter said, gulping down the water. He squeezed at Johnny’s hand. “It’s okay, it’s…”

Peter’s eyes darted from Johnny’s hand to his own. He had a ring tan line from too many days out at the beach that summer, Johnny promising to have him home in time to web crime in the face.

(“You just want someone to help you bury Ben in the sand,” Peter said, wearing that look that meant he was going to do what Johnny wanted with only around a half an hour’s more bitching.

“You know me so well,” Johnny said. “So I’m thinking you hold him down and I’ll do the mermaid tail.”)

He frowned and Johnny’s heart hammered against his ribs. He ran through the scenarios like lightning - Peter recognized him, Peter had joked and flirted with him, but god, they’d done that for years without it meaning more than a warm flicker in Johnny’s chest. What if Peter didn’t remember, what if there was more damage than the big brains had anticipated, what if, what if, what if.

“Where’s my ring?” Peter asked, and Johnny let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging, the relief was so great.

“Bedside drawer, probably,” Johnny said, taking Peter’s hand. “You never wear it on Avengers stuff, you know that.”

Peter just looked more confused. “I was with the Avengers?”

“Yeah. What’s the last thing you remember?” Johnny asked, pressing his lips to Peter’s palm.

“You,” Peter said.

“Sap,” Johnny said, smothering his smile against Peter’s knuckles.

“Being a goddamn coffee thief,” Peter finished.

So more than a full day missing. Johnny rested his forehead against Peter’s hand and told himself it could have been so much worse. He let out a shaky breath, sitting up. He wasn’t going to let Peter see him cry.

“Franklin and Val want to see you,” he said. “They were worried.”

“Oh, God,” Peter said, struggling up on his elbows. Johnny’s hands flew to his shoulders, trying to keep him down, but even beaten half to hell and weak Peter was still a force to be reckoned with. “Okay, okay, I’m up, send in the cavalry -”

“Whoa, whoa,” Johnny said. “I said they want to see you, not that they get to. Ben’ll keep them busy for a few hours. You’re still out of it.”

“Bossy,” Peter muttered, but sank back down again anyway. “Look at you. Come here.”

Johnny shouldn’t, but he did anyway, gingerly climbing into the tiny bed with Peter. Peter’s arms came up around him, just holding. Johnny put his forehead down against Peter’s shoulder.

“Did I,” Peter broke off with a yawn, “scare you?”

“Every day of my life, you absolute disaster,” Johnny said, eyes slipping shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148968190399/spidertorch-prompt-76-please


	37. Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked: 50. Spideytorch (50. “I need you to forgive me.”)_ \+ _@littleredreadinghood: prompt 15 (15. “Are you still awake…?”)_

“Are you still awake…?”

“No,” Johnny muttered, rolling over onto his side. Peter kissed his shoulder, fingers teasing at the sheets.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” he asked.

Johnny grunted a negative, shivering a little as a gloved hand traced feather-light patterns on his bare skin.

“Would it help if I said you knew who I was when you picked me?” Peter said, rolling Johnny back over onto his back. There was just enough light streaming in through the windows to pick out his mask-messy hair, a scrape above his left eyebrow, the guilty grin. “Because you did know. This was a wholly informed decision you made.”

“I was asleep,” Johnny said, glaring blearily. Peter bent to kiss him and, rolling his eyes, Johnny let him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Peter’s warm lips trailing down his jaw.

“On our anniversary,” Peter accused, lips brushing his ear.

“Not our anniversary anymore,” Johnny shot back. Peter’s hands slid down his sides, dipping under the sheets. Peter’s lips started at his neck.

“It is in some timezones,” he said. Johnny hit him over the head with a pillow. “Okay, okay. Forgive me? I need you to forgive me. I was saving Tokyo from giant robots and Godzilla, risking my life. The fate of the world was on my shoulders!”

His hands were on Johnny’s bare hips now, pushing the sheet down centimeter by centimeter. Johnny tugged at messy hair, forcing Peter’s head up.

“Where were you really?” he asked.

“Newark,” Peter confessed. “Guy dressed like a sugar glider.”

“That sounds more like it,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. “Ditched on my anniversary for a flying rat.”

“Flying rats are a lot less cute when they’re also a two-twenty pound ex-bouncer named Vinnie with some serious parental issues,” Peter said, bending his head to kiss the spot over Johnny’s heart. “Trust me, I would much rather have been with you.”

“Funny way to show it,” Johnny said, tweaking at the costume’s neckline.

“You are much, much better-looking,” Peter said, mouthing his way down Johnny’s chest. “Let me make it up to you?”

Johnny’s breath hitched. He kept himself very still, not leaning up into the wet suction of Peter’s mouth. “How do you know I wouldn’t just rather go back to sleep?”

“Um, because I’ve met you?” Peter said, laughing against his stomach. Peter’s wild laughter never failed to send sparks through Johnny’s veins. “And because you are definitely not wearing anything under here.”

He sat up and ripped the sheet from Johnny, sending it fluttering to the floor. His whistle of appreciation was long and low. Johnny grinned, then gasped – Peter, still in costume, had taken the split-second distraction to web his wrists to the bed. He tested them idly, wondering if he cared enough to burn through the bindings – to roll over onto Peter and strip him out of that costume, taking him apart until Peter really begged for that forgiveness.

There was that glint in Peter’s eye, though.

“Caught me,” he said when Peter bent down for another wet, messy kiss.

“Been doing this a long time, pretty boy,” Peter said. “I know when somebody wants to get caught.”

“Tell it to the Sugar Glider,” Johnny said, arching up into Peter’s touch. “Weren’t you making things up to me?”

“The sight of you is enough to make me forget my manners,” Peter said with one more quick kiss. Johnny grinned – Peter knew flattery would get him everywhere – as Peter settled back between Johnny’s open legs. His hand traced the path his mouth had made, teasing. “Where was I? Here? No, I think it was here.”

“You were lower,” Johnny said, eyes fluttering shut.

“Cheater.” Gloved fingers wrapped around him, touching him just the way he liked. _Show me_ , he’d said that first crazy week, when it felt like they couldn’t go an hour without touching each other, years of tension released like a floodgate. He’d slid those long-fingered hands down Johnny’s stomach, saying, _come on, tell me what you like_ – fuck, to think Johnny ever thought he’d be shy.

One whole year without killing each other. Johnny fervently prayed for another. He jerked as Peter’s talented mouth closed over him, all wet heat. Peter’s hands held his hips – he’d lost one glove, and the thumb of that hand stroked circles against the highest point of Johnny’s hip bone. The metal strapped to his wrist was warm from his skin.

Peter was humming something around him. It took Johnny a second to recognize it.

“Happy Birthday?” he said, incredulous.

Peter pulled off with a wet pop to grin at Johnny.

“I don’t know any anniversary songs,” he confessed, then got back to work. Johnny cursed, his head hitting the pillow. He tried to get any leverage to fuck up into Peter’s hot mouth, but Peter’s grip on his hips was like steel.

“This is the worst apology I’ve ever seen,” he lied, biting at his lip. It was far from that; Peter always made him come so hard he saw stars.

“Am I forgiven?” Peter asked afterwards, nuzzling at Johnny’s inner thigh.

Johnny sighed happily, burning through his restraints. He sat up and reached for Peter, pulling him towards him, legs falling open on either side of Peter’s costumed hips. “I have a confession.”

“One year and you’ve already got a piece on the side,” Peter said. Johnny pinched a nipple through the costume, then circled it with his thumb. Peter made a quiet noise, hand slipping down to rub himself.

“There was a Diablo thing off the coast of Madrid,” Johnny said, tightening his thighs around Peter’s hips. “I got home two hours ago.”

“Two hours ago,” Peter repeated, hand stilling.

“Two hours,” Johnny confirmed, tracing the webs.

“It’s 3 AM,” Peter said. “Two hours ago would have been after midnight.”

“Oh, good, you can count,” Johnny said, smirking.

Peter made a noise of mock outrage, wrestling Johnny back on the bed. Johnny, laughing, put up a cursory struggle, then went dramatically limp when Peter growled.

“Forget Newark Man, you’re my new arch nemesis,” Peter told him, very seriously, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his tights. “I’m taking my revenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make The Sugar Glider the new Stiltman. Call me, Marvel. 
> 
> Originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148989046034/50-spideytorch


	38. "Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _thefangirlhasarrive asked: Oh!Oh! *raises hand like a nerd* Spideytorch 38!_
> 
>  
> 
> More villain!Peter AU!

“Shouldn’t leave your window unlocked, Torch,” Spider-Man’s voice said in his ear. “You never know who will come a callin’.”

Johnny shifted against him, yawning. “Security protocols. Gave you clearance. Ugh, why are you wet?”

“You added a bad guy to your security clearance?” Peter clucked his tongue. “Not very smart, Sparky. And it’s raining outside. You sleep like the dead.”

“Maybe I was waiting for you to do something more than breathe in my ear,” Johnny said, giving the order for lights. A soft glow flooded the room, revealing Peter – soaking wet, bruised and bloody. His black costume hung in tatters.

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny demanded, taking Peter’s face between his hands. Peter’s hand came up to rest over his; that devil-may-care smirk was a lot less convincing when Peter’s lip was split and one eye nearly swollen shut.

The man in black-style mask was gone, not that it ever hid much of anything to start with.

“Nothing your usual brand of TLC wouldn’t help with,” Peter said, turning his face into Johnny’s hand and kissing his palm. “I’ll just lie back and let you play naughty nurse, shall I?”

“Get your ass in the bathroom,” Johnny told him. “Right now.”

 

* * *

 

He had to cut the top half of Peter’s costume off him in the end, when Peter couldn’t lift his arms above his head without yelping and cursing.

Johnny had a first aid kit Sue had made him stash under the sink, and a stolen ice pack from the freezer, but under the bright bathroom lights Peter’s injuries looked like more than he was equipped to deal with. He chewed at his bottom lip.

“I should wake up Reed.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I heal on my own just fine,” Peter said, hissing a little as Johnny cleaned his bloodied knuckles. “Besides, he’ll revoke your little security clearance, and as much as I like getting you alone on a rooftop…”

“Okay, okay,” Johnny said. “Why come here, then?”

“I needed time,” Peter confessed. “A safe spot to rest for a little while.”

“You’re always safe with me,” Johnny told him, bandaging his hand. Peter made a sarcastic cooing noise.

“There’s my superhero.” He sighed, eyes on the ruined pile of black fabric lying crumpled on the floor. “So much for that costume. Those things don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“And unstable molecules do?” Johnny asked, frowning at looked like bloody claw marks down Peter’s hard chest. “Big bad like you, I figure you’ve got a team of sweet old grannies locked up in an apartment somewhere, churning these out for you.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, just staring at the wall while Johnny inspected his chest, gingerly cleaning grit and dirt from sliced skin. “My aunt taught me to sew. I think it kind of annoyed her, when ended up being better at it than her. She never said anything, but she’d get this kind of twitch in her eye…”

He trailed off with a quiet laugh. Johnny pressed his palm to Peter’s heart, just to feel the beat for a few seconds.

“She sounds nice,” he said.

“She was the best person,” Peter said. “Her and my Uncle Ben.”

Johnny was quiet for a long moment. Then he dug the gauze back out.

“So what happened to you, anyway?” he asked. “Why aren’t you lying down with the rest of your sinister crew?”

Peter cringed.

“Two of my esteemed colleagues and I had… a little disagreement,” he admitted. “With our fists. Some knives. There was a bullet, but I dodged that.”

“Shit,” Johnny said. “Why the trouble in paradise? I thought it was six for one and one for six when it came to striking fear into the hearts of New York’s citizens.”

When he looked up, Peter was scowling. No mirth in his face, no easygoing façade – just pure rage.

“I don’t hurt kids,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Okay,” Johnny.

“Not kids,” Peter repeated.

“Yeah, I know. Heard you the first time,” Johnny said, rubbing circles on his less injured shoulder.

“And I don’t sit around and watch while other people do, either,” Peter said. Johnny closed his eyes for a moment, reaching up to brush Peter’s messy hair back from his forehead.

“You know, everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” he said, heart aching. “But I don’t think it’s true.”

Peter chuckled. He palmed Johnny’s cheek. “Then how come I do all these bad things, huh?I like hurting people, Johnny. I like when they’re afraid. That makes me the bad guy.”

“I don’t think so. I think something happened to you, and now you’re just striking out,” Johnny said. “I think you’re angry. I don’t think you’re bad.”

Peter sighed, long and fond. “And I think you watch way too much daytime TV, blondie.”

Johnny smiled, opening his eyes.

“Come on, injured man,” he said, holding out his hands for Peter to take. “It’s back to bed for us.”

“Finally,” Peter said, leering.

“To sleep,” Johnny told him. “I don’t know how it goes on the other side of the law, but you bleeding out on me? Not sexy.”

Peter was all talk, anyway. He stumbled on his feet, and in the end Johnny practically had to carry him to bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow; Johnny shut the light and climbed in after him, his head down on the least injured part of Peter’s chest, just listening to him breathe.

Peter’s hand came up groggily to tug at his hair. “Hey. You should see the other guys.”

Johnny cracked a smile. “I’m sure I’ll run into them sooner or later. If my sister finds you here…”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Peter soothed. He stroked Johnny’s hair, almost loving. “I’ll be gone by the morning.”

But that only made Johnny worry more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/149055182844/ohoh-raises-hand-like-a-nerd-spideytorch-38


	39. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pepperywisdom asked: Johnny/Peter & 5!_

Sue had made him take a first aid class the summer David George decided he had a problem with Johnny. He’d told Sue he was just clumsy and she’d made him take the stupid class anyway, probably because she knew he was lying to her.

He wished he could remember anything about it, aside from how hot the instructor had been.

Spider-Man stumbled like he was drunk. Johnny noted, slightly hysterically, that he was getting little drops of blood all over the carpet.

“Whoakay, hey,” he said, catching Spider-Man. Spider-Man was hard to hold onto, but this time he just went limp in Johnny’s arms which, okay, that was probably blood loss talking and just bad in general. What he suddenly wouldn’t give for Spider-Man to snap at him. “What happened to you?”

Spider-Man laughed. “You should see the other huge lizard guy. Sorry about the window.”

Johnny looked at the broken glass all over the floor. He was pretty sure those windows weren’t supposed to be breakable. He manhandled Spider-Man towards the couch. “It’s okay. You can owe me.”

“S’what I like about you, Torch,” Spider-Man said, wheezing a little as he collapsed back against the cushions. “You’re a magnanimous guy.”

“You’re really hurt,” Johnny said, dropping to his knees in front of him.

“Yeah,” Spider-Man agreed quietly. The mask was torn, one lens missing. He had brown eyes, Johnny realized with a jolt. One glove was gone; his knuckles were bloody. “Think I would feel better if you tried to spell magnanimous?”

“Do you need like,” Johnny said, voice faltering. He wished Sue or Reed or Ben were here to tell him what to do, but Sue and Reed were scouting wedding locations and Ben was out with Alicia. “A hospital?”

Spider-Man seemed to think about it. “I don’t think so?”

“Oh, you don’t think so,” Johnny said, bursting into slightly hysterical laughter. “You’re bleeding all over our white couch and you don’t think so.”

“You’re the one who put me here,” Spider-Man said. “No, I – I heal. And I don’t do hospitals. What with, you know, the mask. They usually want to take that off.”

Johnny looked down at him, biting his lip. “You heal?”

“I heal,” Spider-Man promised. The little bit of his mouth Johnny could see quirked upwards. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Hot Stuff.”

Spider-Man’s suit was sticky with blood. “You should take that off at least.”

Spider-Man started to laugh. “On the –”

“First date, yeah, yeah, you’re not funny,” Johnny said. “Seriously, I’m getting the first aid kit at least. There better be a shirtless superhero on my couch when I get back.”

“Mr. Storm, so forward,” Spider-Man muttered. Johnny glanced back over his shoulder at the doorway and with a guilty hot flash caught a glimpse of shifting muscle as Spider-Man stripped out of the top half of the costume.

Johnny looked away.

It was an odd sight he came back to, Spider-Man sitting up a little bit, propped up by the arm of the couch, an odd mix of primary color costume and bare, pale skin. In that head-to-toe costume he always seemed somehow untouchable, something more than human – looking at him now, Johnny was hit all over again that there was a guy in there, a guy who had family and friends and a whole life Johnny knew nothing about. What little he could see of Spider-Man’s face made him think he wasn’t an older than Johnny’s own seventeen years. So just a kid like him, really.

A kid with some pretty incredible abs.

Johnny busied himself with sponging dried blood and grit away from Spider-Man side instead, being careful, ignoring the fact that he more or less had to straddle Spider-Man with him lying the way he was. Spider-Man made a quiet hissing noise. The one visible eye went wide.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Um, patching you up?” Johnny said.

“Oh,” Spider-Man said, quietly.

“Who normally patches you up?” Johnny asked. Feeling clumsy, he added, “Lucky girlfriend?” Feeling daring – “Boyfriend?”

“It’s uh, no,” Spider-Man said, sounding thrown for a loop. “It’s usually just me.”

Johnny tried to imagine how it would be, doing things alone. No Ben, gruff on the outside but soft on the inside, looking out for Johnny, or Reed telling him he did good out there. No Sue to fix him up the way they’d done for each other for as long as Johnny could remember. “That’s sad.”

Spider-Man stiffened, making like he was going to sit up. Johnny instinctively pressed back against him, though he knew he couldn’t keep Spider-Man anywhere Spider-Man didn’t want to be kept. “I don’t need your pity, Johnny –”

“Hey!” Johnny snapped. “You crashed through my window, okay? You’re hurt and you came here, so it’s not pity. It’s me being your friend. So shut up.”

“Um,” Spider-Man said. “Wow.”

“I’m going to take care of you, alright?” Johnny continued hotly. “So just – shut up.”

There was one beat, then Spider-Man sagged back down against the couch, arms held out obligingly so Johnny could get at the worst scrapes on his chest, long shallow gashes that almost looked like claws.

“Okay,” Spider-Man said. “You got me. Shutting up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/149448787079/johnnypeter-5


	40. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: If you're still taking prompts: spideytorch, number 60 and/or 84?_

The photos came out on Gwen’s birthday, just like they always did. Peter spread them out on the bed, thumbing through them. The good times, Gwen all smiles, with Harry or Mary Jane or Flash, or just with him, his arm around her shoulders, both of them caught mid-laugh. Gwen’s hair in her face; Gwen mock scowling at him for catching her at a moment she felt wasn’t her best; Gwen on the back of that old motorcycle, playing pin-up.

It had been long enough that he didn’t feel the need to put the photos away when Johnny barged into the apartment in the evening, smelling like smoke and complaining about his day. It might have helped, that he came bearing takeout.

“From that Italian place you were talking about the other day,” he said, climbing up on the bed behind Peter and pressing his lips to Peter’s bowed neck.

“Mm,” Peter hummed. “Wait, the place I was talking about because I hate them?”

He could hear the eyeroll. “Listen, if you’re going to talk about a place at that one pitch you hit for longer than thirty seconds, I’m not going to remember why. She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Peter said fondly, staring down at all the memories.

“Peter Parker, professional pain in my ass,” Johnny huffed, collapsing down next to him. He sprawled out on the bed, grinning up at Peter. “How you ever got all those babes used to drive me crazy.”

“You know what they say,” Peter said, leaning over him and kissing him long and slow. “It’s that certain something that can’t be found in books. Animal attraction.”

“Head trauma, more like” Johnny told him, hand at the back of his neck. “Cool bike, too. Was it hers?”

That startled a laugh out of Peter. “Oh, she wished. No, it was mine.”

“Cute,” Johnny said, picking up the photo in question.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, taking it from him. “The motorcycle was mine. What, what’s with the face?”

Johnny rolled over, staring at him incredulously. “I’ve been in a car with you. I’ve seen you try to parallel park. Now you expect me to believe eighteen-year-old you was dazzling the college girls on a motorcycle?”

“I couldn’t drive a car, doesn’t mean I didn’t handle that bike like a dream,” Peter said. He fished through the photos until he found one Harry had taken, Peter and Gwen just pulling up to the curb. Her smile was breathless, her hair windblown and him – he’d always felt like a million bucks on that bike, the second best feeling there was after the webs.

Third best, maybe, after making Johnny Storm gape at him like a fish.

“You doing okay there?” Peter teased, yanking at the collar of his expensive t-shirt.

“I need to readjust my entire worldview,” Johnny said. “Peter Parker on a motorcycle. Wow.”

“We all had our wild youth,” Peter said, shuffling the photos back together and back into their shoe box. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Oh, yeah.” Johnny rolled his eyes, getting up off the bed. “I’d sure hate for you to miss that chicken parm you hate.”

“So you were listening!”

Peter, like an idiot, expected that to be the end of it. In the reoccurring them of his life, he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

The motorcycle Johnny showed up with was sleek and cherry red and Johnny, perched beside it, was unsurprisingly dressed like something out of some kind of artistic porno about bikers. Peter, standing half out of the Baxter Building’s door, contemplated just turning around.

“You knew this was coming,” Johnny told him. “You can’t just drop something like that on me and not offer up proof. Photoshop exists, Dr. Parker.”

“Because that’s what I’d use it for, and not erasing my many wardrobe photos from public memory,” Peter said, sighing. “Are you serious right now? Are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m serious?” Johnny shot back.

Peter gave him the long slow up-and-down, taking in the tight black pants, the boots, the carefully styled hair. “If I tell you what I think you look like it’ll be grounds for divorce.”

Johnny practically preened. “Charmer. Get on the bike or you’ll never get the opportunity.”

“Yes, dear,” Peter said, relenting. He stepped forward, running an appreciative hand over the motorcycle – it was a truly beautiful beast, worlds away from his scrappy old lady. Trust Johnny to do nothing halfway. Peter swung one leg over it, trying to remember the feeling of being eighteen and having everything in the world to prove and a pretty blond to impress.

One out of three, he could work with.

“Is it fast?” he said, words from a lifetime ago, as Johnny settled behind him with his arms wrapped tight around Peter.

“As fast as they make ‘em,” Johnny said, right in his ear.

Peter bit back a grin. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Johnny handed him the keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/149685496144/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-spideytorch


	41. “These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pixetty asked: Spideytorch #34 please!_

Johnny was starting to think Spider-Man wouldn’t show.

Somewhere out of the way, he’d said after their last rooftop rendezvous had been crashed by the Avengers. Spider-Man had swung off, of course, leaving a very flustered Johnny to lie about what, exactly, he’d been doing with Spider-Man on top of the Macy’s building.

“Come on, hot stuff,” Spider-Man had said. “Find us somewhere we won’t get interrupted. Somewhere remote.”

The Statue of Liberty at midnight seemed to fit the bill. Except Johnny had been standing around inside the crown for an hour, and he was starting to feel like he’d been stood up. He exhaled, steam curling up into the air.

Ten more minutes, then he’d go home.

Spider-Man only made him wait seven – one second there was a soft noise behind him and the next he was being spun around and kissed within an inch of his life.

Johnny met him eagerly, sliding his hands up Spider-Man’s bare arms. God, he had really, really great arms. “The whole sneaking up on the man who can light on fire thing? Not smart.”

“Worked out good for me,” Spider-Man said, pulling Johnny in closer against him. Johnny shivered, not from cold. “Hey, Sparky.”

“Thought you were going to be a no show,” Johnny said, trying to remember how annoyed he’d been just a minute ago. He pulled away; Spider-Man had the nerve to actually pout at him. “I’ve been waiting up here forever.”

“I know, I know,” Spider-Man said, gloved hands settling at Johnny’s waist. His thumbs rubbed comforting little circles. “But I thought steering a boat would be way easier than it was.”

“You have a boat?” Johnny asked, distracted by the way Spider-Man’s gaze had dropped to his mouth.

“Sure, after I stole it,” Spider-Man said, then picked that terrible moment to try and kiss Johnny again. Johnny slapped a hand over his mouth.

“You can’t just steal a boat!” he said. Spider-Man glared at him, but the kiss he pressed to the center of Johnny’s palm was soft.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” he soothed. “I’ll return it, golden boy, don’t you worry that heroic little head. Hey, I didn’t steal a boat and almost capsize in the Hudson to get lectured here.”

“Yeah, but maybe I just came out here to stargaze,” Johnny teased, leaning back as far as Spider-Man’s strong hands would let him.

“These stars?” Spider-Man scoffed. “Nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.”

Johnny burst out laughing.

“What?” Spider-Man grinned. “Not good enough for you? I can do worse.”

“Please just don’t,” Johnny said, leaning back in.

Kissing Spider-Man was so heady; Johnny could never resist the temptation for long. Just the press of his lips made Johnny’s head spin, euphoric. Suddenly the stolen boat and the long wait seemed completely unimportant – all that mattered was that Spider-Man was up here with him, on top of the world.

“Wait,” Spider-Man said after a second. He reached up and tugged off his own Zorro mask, tossing it to the ground. Underneath he was flushed and angular, his brown hair a mess. He had thick eyebrows and long eyelashes and the barest smattering of freckles, and Johnny thought, _oh_.

“That’s your face,” he said. The smile that spread across his face was uncontrollable. It was a nice face, even if the nose was a little crooked and the set of his features defiant. It was Spider-Man’s face, and Johnny was actually looking at it.

“Don’t get used to this,” Spider-Man warned. “But just for tonight… I…”

“Okay,” Johnny said, knocking their foreheads together. Spider-Man let out a shaky breath, hands tightening at Johnny’s hips as Johnny slid his own up under his sleeveless hoodie, starting to tug it off.

“My name,” he said, eyes closed. “It’s Peter.”

Johnny waited a second for the next smart line, _so you know what to moan_ or something stupid like that, but apparently that was all he’d wanted to say. Just his name.

“Peter,” Johnny said, testing the way it felt to say. “Hi, Pete.”

“Hi, Johnny,” Peter said. Then, another quiet confession: “I meant it about your eyes.”

Johnny had to kiss him again before he said something he’d regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted at: http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/149916253539/spideytorch-34-please


	42. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _romanoffmorelikebromanoff asked: how about spideytorch, 45 “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay"? :)_
> 
> Lost this one in my tumblr tag for a while and hey look it's the time I predicted parts of an Uncanny Avengers plot!

Peter jolted awake as someone climbed into bed behind him. His spider-sense was utterly silent, and the ragged breathing was familiar.

“Johnny?” he said, turning his face back towards the pillow.

“Sorry,” Johnny said after a second. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Mmhmm,” Peter mumbled. “What are you doing back in my bed? Wearing clothes this time, I hope.”

Gloved fingers brushed his shoulder. “Still all suited up. You mind?”

“Not any more than normal,” Peter yawned as Johnny curled up at his back. “Any point in my asking why you’re in my bed?”

“Bad mission tonight,” Johnny said. “Telepaths. Got into our heads one by one. I was listening to the others scream, so I knew it was going to be bad when my turn came, but –”

“Okay,” Peter cut him, rolling over. He couldn’t see much of Johnny in the dark, chin tucked towards his chest, but it was an easy thing to throw an arm around him. “Okay, I get it.”

“They made me see things,” Johnny said, shifting to bury his face against Peter’s chest. Peter’s other hand found his hair, come loose from its slicked back new style. Johnny had always been touchy – an arm around the shoulders, a hand on Peter’s back. The Fantastic Four had been the cuddliest bunch of superheroes he’d ever met. He guessed Johnny must have missed that.

Peter kind of missed having someone on the other side of the bed, too.

“Made me think I’d burned my family alive. It hurt,” Johnny said, pressing closer.

“I know,” Peter said, closing his own eyes. Telepaths were always a trip. “But it wasn’t real. See?” He pinched Johnny’s arm hard enough that Johnny yelped. “I’ll do that as many times as I have to, no need to thank me.”

“Jerk.” Johnny punched him. Peter laughed, smacking a kiss against the top of Johnny’s head. He figured it wasn’t too much, considering this was the second time Johnny had climbed into his bed. Third, if they were counting that spectacularly drunk night while they’d been living together.

“Still waiting on the reason you picked my bed,” he said, tugging on a lock of hair.

“I told you,” Johnny said.

“You really didn’t,” Peter hummed.

“They made me think I burned my family alive, Pete,” Johnny said. “I can’t check on the others, not even Ben, but I had to make sure –”

He cut himself off, breathing too fast and hard again. Peter rubbed at his back a little, stunned. He knew Johnny thought of him as family, but he never imagined himself counted among Sue, Reed and Ben.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, sorry, you know me, I haven’t gone a month without getting my head slammed through a wall in twelve years. That was all the head trauma talking. You gotta spell this stuff out of for me, hot stuff.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Johnny mumbled. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay?”

“And I am,” Peter said. “I’m totally fine. Hey, stay. I got you.”

“Sure?” Johnny said.

“Have I ever said stay when I wanted you to leave?” Peter said, burying his nose in Johnny’s hair. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, you’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Johnny breathed out. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, just make me breakfast in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148908498829/how-about-spideytorch-45-i-had-a-nightmare-about).


	43. The Hornet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: For the ask meme: "What the /hell/ are you wearing?!"_

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“It’s been a long day. Don’t start with me,” Peter said, twisting to try and free himself from the rest of the purple armor. “Can you –?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t strain yourself,” Johnny said, slipping behind him to work at the clasps. “This is, okay, this is ludicrous. And tacky. If this is a permanent costume change I can’t be seen in public with you, I hope you know that.”

“Even I don’t hate myself that much,” Peter snorted. “No, I had to do something, not as Spider-Man. Can’t believe I still had this thing in storage.”

“I can’t believe you had this thing at all,” Johnny said. “Why does it look so familiar?” 

“Mm, wore for it a little while a few years ago, when Norman Osborn had that million dollar price tag on my masked head,” Peter said, closing his eyes and cracking his neck. Then the memory hit him, and he froze. So did Johnny. Peter didn’t have to look at him – he could feel the accusation.

“I talked to you in this,” Johnny said, wrestling the last of the Hornet armor off. He shoved Peter and Peter let himself be shoved. His back hit the mattress. “I threatened you in this! I threatened you over your own safety!”

“Yep,” Peter admitted, trying to for a grin as Johnny climbed on top of him. “It was kind of sweet.” 

“Why are you like this?” Johnny demanded, scowling. “Where do the lies end?”

“I know, I know, I’m horrible,” Peter said, pulling him down for a kiss. “Hey, remember that Prodigy guy? Yellow suit, aw shucks voice? That was me, too.”

Johnny hit him with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hornet and Prodigy costumes are both a) real and b) terrible. Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/150876700129/for-the-ask-meme-what-the-hell-are-you).


	44. The Baxter Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: for the 50 prompts thing 18 please_
> 
> [I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m no good)](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=989)

There was a moment, standing in the gutted Baxter Building, where Peter thought he might have made a mistake. He didn’t say it – of course he didn’t say it, not where anyone could hear, not when he had spent entirely too much money outbidding all the competition – but it must have shown on his face.

“Looks a lot different when you get down to the bones of the place, huh?” one of the contractors said.

“I’ve been in buildings in worse shape before. I just,” Peter said, looking around. “I have a lot of memories about this place.”

“Sure, sure,” the contractor said. “Everyone in the city’s got a Fantastic Four story. My cousin had his cab wrecked by the big guy himself, one time.”

Peter couldn’t explain that he’d had so many important moments in this building. The first time he’d met the Fantastic Four, so overconfident, ripping through the plexiglass cage barehanded. The first time he’d been here, mask-free. When the gate to the Negative Zone had opened and he’d gotten Johnny – alive – up in his arms.

Johnny and Ben both had been hopeful, at first, after the disappearance. They’d even joked about it, all the times one or two or three or all four of them had gone missing. But then months had gone by with nothing, no news, and slowly it had been like people started to forget that anything was missing.

Johnny had been quiet, and then, seemingly overnight, Johnny had been completely off the rails. It took Peter by surprise – he’d just seen Johnny and sure, he’d been down, but otherwise he was fine, and then the next thing Peter knew he was splashed all over the tabloids and social media, and Peter had briefly been as furious at Johnny and he was heartbroken for him, that he would overshadow Reed and Sue’s disappearance with what was apparently the bender of the century.

He went to go get him. He didn’t know why. He’d felt like he’d had to.

He found Johnny in a corner at a rooftop party, and he wasn’t alone. The guy was big, broad-shouldered and taller than Johnny, with the fingers of one hand twisted in the back of Johnny’s golden hair, forcing his head back. The other hand was heading steadily south of Johnny’s narrow hips.

Peter had been running on a dangerous combo of very little sleep and the stress of Parker Industries. He’d been nursing a headache for eight hours, hadn't eaten in longer than that, and for some reason he could hear the sounds Johnny was making over the roar of the music – quiet little moans. Needy.

He snapped, just a little bit.

Spider-Man might have nearly broken his handsy date’s wrist, but at least he’d saved Johnny from a public indecency scandal.

Then Peter had slung Johnny unceremoniously over his shoulder and it had been up, up, and away.

“Peter, let me go!” Johnny had said, flailing in his grip.

“Lemme think about this one,” Peter said, humming. “Nah.”

Johnny’s body temperature spiked dangerously; Peter yelped. They both went down hard on a rooftop, Peter’s spider-sense the only thing stopping serious injury.

“What was that about?” Peter demanded, rolling to his feet. Johnny stayed on the ground, a sprawl of long limbs. Peter fought not think about how red his mouth was, how disheveled his hair.

“That should be my question,” Johnny bit back, lifting his head to glare at him. “You my chaperone now?”

“If the spider-bootie fits,” Peter said. He offered a hand to help Johnny up and was rebuffed.

“I’m a big boy who lights on fire, Peter,” Johnny said, stumbling a little. “I can take care of myself.”

“That is not the impression the entire world is getting tonight,” Peter said. “Okay, come on, sit down, you’re making me dizzy so I can’t imagine how you feel.”

“A whole lot worse than five minutes ago, no thanks to you,” Johnny said, but let Peter lead him over the roof’s edge anyway and together they sat silently for a few long moments, Peter’s arm around Johnny’s shoulders and Johnny’s head bowed.

“So…” Peter said, and trailed off when he wasn’t sure how to continue without asking if Johnny liked having his hair pulled.

He really needed to go home and sleep for about a year.

Johnny mumbled something under his breath.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak celebrity bender,” Peter said, cupping his hand to his ear. “A little louder for the class, please?”

“Ben left, okay?” Johnny said. “Ben just – he left.”

The words that came out of Peter’s mouth were both automatic and the worst thing he could’ve said: “What did you do?”

Johnny jerked away from him like he’d been burned and Peter instantly regretted it.

“Johnny, I didn’t –”

“Fuck you,” Johnny said, standing up and flaming on. “If you come after me again, things are going to get a whole lot hotter for you.”

Then he’d left, and Peter had sat on the rooftop and felt like the biggest idiot in the world. They’d spoken since then, of course – Johnny never managed to stay angry for long and Peter could offer a halfway decent apology when he was (possibly literally) under fire. But it had been awkward, and strained, and Johnny had been – distant. And sad. Of course he was sad. And now Johnny was with Medusa, and -- it wasn’t Peter’s place to comment on that, and wasn’t in his best interests to think too hard about why it bothered him so much. Why Johnny with that guy that night had bothered him that.

So instead Peter looked up at the twisted steel skeleton of Johnny’s home and wondered if this was a clumsy apology. But he didn’t know what else to do.

“Maybe I’ll buy a statue, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/156341932769/for-the-50-prompts-thing-18-please)


	45. Unrequited Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _missdiorcherie asked: 8 + Extra™ angst spideytorch_
> 
> Ultimate Marvel, set early on in Ultimate Comics Spider-Man, after Johnny has moved in with the Parkers.
> 
> [Ah, unrequited love. When your best isn’t enough. (Participation medals of the heart.) ](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1033)

Johnny crashed the attic after dinner, lounging around on the couch up there and generally making a nuisance of himself as Peter worked. After a while he turned towards Peter, eyes shadowed by the fall of his blond hair. He was taller than last time Peter had seen him, and skinnier too, and he wouldn’t talk about where he’d been or what he’d been doing or who’d given him that bruise on his face, not beyond a noncommittal shrug.

“Hey,” he said, reaching one long arm out to poke Peter in the shoulder. “Heyyy, Spidey.”

Peter batted his hand away. “What?”

“So you’re with Gwen now?” Johnny said, raising his eyebrows. “What happened to MJ?”

Peter felt himself turn faintly pink. “I thought you were Mr. Little Black Book.”

“Sure, but that’s, y’know,” Johnny said, stretching his hands far above his head and linking his fingers together. “Different. You and MJ were like _that_.”

“Things change,” Peter said. “Look at you, living in Queens.”

Johnny laughed, but it was a little nervous.

“Yeah but is it like… do you, y’know, is it because she’s blonde?”

“What?” Peter said, finally looking up. “Were there even words in there?”

“Because there’s plenty of blonds in the sea,” Johnny said, staring intensely up at Peter’s ceiling. “If that’s your new thing.”

“Like who?” Peter said. “If this is some weird way if asking if I know if Liz is still single…”

“Like maybe someone who collapsed in your arms earlier,” Johnny said, finally looking back at Peter. Peter stared back, stunned speechless.

“Johnny, I don’t…”

Johnny snorted, suddenly, shooting up. He aimed a friendly kick Peter’s way. “Kidding, dude.” He laughed, but his face was all red. “You are way too easy.”

“Don’t do that!” Peter said, laughing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. Or that he was trying, too hard, to keep missing something.

“Yeah, whatever,” Johnny said, leveraging himself up off the bed. He hung his head a little. “I’m gonna go check out the new digs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/156464949164/8-extra-angst-spideytorch-make-it-as-as)


	46. Arranged Marriage... In Space!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _@traincat okay but how is this not like a perfect space prince AU prompt? King and Queen Storm and the reluctant betrothals behind them? ;P (pariahsdream)_

Peter Parker was not a suitable prospect, no matter what Johnny’s sister said. Alright, so he was so smart even Reed was impressed with him, and kind of funny when he was talking to other people, and not completely awful to look at, and he was the unexpected heir to a solar system, and had Johnny mentioned that he was not completely terrible to look at? But he wasn’t who Johnny was _supposed_ to be marrying, which made all the difference.

He was _supposed_ to be marrying Princess Crystal Amaquelin, who was also smart and funny and much better than not completely awful to look at, and who always smelled like flowers, and who was, it turned out, unfortunately allergic to the atmosphere of Johnny’s home planet.

That he could go live on hers was deemed completely unacceptable.

“If anything should happen to me, the throne would be yours until Franklin comes of age,” Sue said, every single time, no matter how hard he’d begged or pleaded or threatened.

He tried not to be too mad at his nephew for having the audacity to only be one year old.

A replacement was found, and that replacement was Peter Parker, and to add insult to injury it definitely didn’t seem like Peter particularly wanted to be engaged to him. The entire engagement dinner he’d sat slumped in his seat next to Johnny, fidgeting with his cuffs and stiff collar. Johnny had asked him what he’d been studying before he’d had both royalty and Johnny thrust upon him, only trying to be polite, and Peter had said without so much as looking at him, “You wouldn’t be interested,” and then he’d engaged Reed in conversation for the rest of the night.

So Johnny’s fiancé didn’t want to marry him, was being forced to marry him for the same reasons Johnny was being forced to marry Peter, and he thought Johnny was stupid to boot. Congratulations to him.

“You know when Sue was my age, she had alien kings threatening to invade if she didn’t marry them!” Johnny said, trying not to fidget during the fitting for his wedding clothes. “Kings! Multiple! I have one nerd who won’t even look at me.”

“Probably just blinded by yer natural radiance,” Ben said, smirking.

“Be serious! I’m about to be stuck with him until hopeful lab accident do we part,” Johnny whined. He could see Peter through the windows, brunet head ducked, walking through the gardens in Reed’s company. He wanted Peter to look up, to meet his eyes, to show some kind of emotion, but of course he and Reed just kept talking.

Johnny sighed heavily and immediately suffered a few pin pricks and some scolding for it.

“He’s so _boring_ ,” he said.

“The weight of the crown,” Ben said. “You’re not marryin’ for witty conversation.”

“You know who I wish I was marrying?” Johnny said when he was allowed to do more than breathe shallowly and wish silently for a very handsome invasion force again.

“Not this again,” Ben said, like sheer exasperation had ever stopped Johnny.

“Spider-Man,” Johnny sighed, shrugging his shirt back on.

“What part of ‘not this again’ didn’t make it through that thick skull?” Ben asked. “Take it from me, kid: better that pipsqueak than some urban legend.”

Johnny wasn’t so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/157711842164/pariahsdream-traincat-ff-20-traincat-okay). Pariahsdream has continuations over [at their blog.](https://pariahsdream.tumblr.com/tagged/pariah-writes)


	47. MCU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _mockingbirdie asked: I wish you would write a fic where... tiny!MCU Peter meets Johnny for the first time_

There was another kid in the lab. He had bleach blond surfer hair and an expensive-looking watch on one wrist and a general air of boredom. His sweater looked like it cost more than Peter’s closet. He was staring at his phone, leaning back in his seat with his feet kicked lazily up on a table and every couple of minutes Dr. Reed Richards, without pausing in his conversation with Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes or even turning around, put his hand on the back of the kid’s chair to steady it. 

He was completely, unfairly gorgeous, and he didn’t seem to know Peter existed, which was sort of insulting given the amount of staring Peter had been doing.

A hand appeared in his vision, fingers snapping, and Peter startled, blinking hard. How long had it been since he’d blinked? Probably since Lanky and Blond’s tongue had darted across his lips.

“Hey, eyes on whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing,” Happy said, shaking Peter a little.

“Can’t,” Peter breathed. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh boy,” Happy said, sighing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/158283634489/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-tinymcu).


	48. Even More Villain Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pariahsdream asked: 13 bad guy AUSpideytorch._
> 
> [You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome.](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=972)

The new costume looked good. The old one had had its benefits – teenage Johnny had really appreciated Spider-Man’s sleeveless hoodie showing off his arms – but the new one was a dream, all tight black fabric from top to bottom, silvery lines of webbing glinting in the light.

The mask was new, too, just a simple band of black. It hid very little of Peter’s face.

Johnny supposed it didn’t need to, anymore.

“Well?” Peter said, striking a pose in the doorway of Johnny’s new apartment. “My darling, my dearest, my Vanity Fair cover boy? Comments, critiques, or if you prefer we can skip to you throwing yourself at me?”

“How did you get in here?” Johnny demanded.

“I like your skylight,” Peter said, grinning. “Did you get it just for me?”

“I fly,” Johnny said. He grabbed Peter by the hands – Peter immediately took control, tangling their fingers together – and tugged him over to the couch. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since –”

“How about we skip the shop talk?” Peter interrupted with a quick bitter twist of his mouth. His gave Johnny the once over. “You look good.”

Johnny stamped down on the rush of affection and reminded himself that he was mad at Peter, for disappearing, for letting Johnny know his face and his name before he dropped out of his life, for letting him think that he was dead. For being so smart and so stupid at the same, and for robbing banks and his weird science and for being so much more under there.

Peter brought their joined hands up to his own chest, squeezing before he let go. “I asked for your opinion.”

“You look like you’re five minutes late to firing some henchmen,” Johnny said. “Nobody ever heard of a spiderburglar.”

He shoved and Peter, laughing wildly, went down willingly, sprawled on the couch.

“Oh, Torch,” Peter said. “I missed you.”

“Take the mask off,” Johnny said, climbing on top of him. Peter obliged, yanking the thin fabric away and letting it fall to the floor, and then he slid his hands up Johnny’s thighs. His brown eyes were always so intense.

“I did miss you, really,” Peter said. He leaned up to kiss him, opening his mouth obligingly, letting Johnny take the lead. Oh, that was why – sometimes Johnny forgot, why he was so stupidly hung up on Peter. The man could rob a bank and terrorize civilians one day and then the next he’d kiss Johnny like that, like he was the only person in the whole world. Like Johnny was all that mattered to him. “Save the world while I was away?”

“The universe,” Johnny corrected.

“Forgot all about me, huh?” Peter said.

“You broke into my apartment,” Johnny said, trying hard not to grin.

“What was I supposed to do, check under the mat for a key?” Peter said. “I wanted to see you and wow, are you a sight.”

“I’m not the only one…” Johnny said, tracing the silvery lines of webbing. He tapped at the little spider at the center of his chest. “You’re so melodramatic.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Peter said, beaming. Lounging around on Johnny’s sofa he looked less like a supervillain and more like the goofy 22-year-old kid he was. “You like drama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/156418482234/imma-be-greedy-6-ult-johnnyxpete-and-13-bad-guy).


	49. Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pariahsdream asked: 78 or 97 with the losers pls. :)_
> 
> Established relationship, set nebulously current canon.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Johnny said, sighing, just like the last eight times Peter had asked. Peter had adjusted his strategy a little, kissing his way down Johnny’s long neck. The morning light fell in streaks across the bed. Peter had only just gotten home and found Johnny in bed, uncharacteristically awake despite the early hour and staring out the window.

“Tell me,” Peter said, starting on his shoulder.

“I can’t tell you, because nothing’s wrong,” Johnny said. Peter lifted his head to scowl at him, wounded, but Johnny only smiled back, flicking him on the forehead. “You’re so cute when you pout like that.”

“I’m being serious,” Peter said. “You’re quiet. Something’s wrong and I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

“You can’t fix it anyway,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. He touched Peter’s face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

“Yeah, oh,” Johnny said, knocking his forehead against Peter’s. “I’m just having a day, that’s all. Normally Sue and I have this whole, go, hit the city, eat our feelings kind of thing, but…”

He gestured helplessly. But Sue was gone, disappeared into the ether. Johnny was the last Storm standing.

Peter kissed him softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just – I got nostalgic,” Johnny said, toying with the short hair at the back of Peter’s neck. “I just made it worse, that’s all. What else is new.”

This was the part where Peter would usually make some dumb joke just to break the mood, but he bit his tongue and let Johnny have the silence, fingers toying with the neckline of Peter’s costume.

“I looked up our old house,” he said. “Foreclosed on last year. Go figure, right? Fits with the rest of my life.”

“Hey, offended here,” Peter said, and that finally earned him a smile.

“Except for you,” Johnny said, pressing his hand flat to the spider in the middle of Peter’s chest. “You’re your own special category of disaster.” He fell quiet again, tracing the webs across Peter’s left shoulder with one finger. “It’s weird how well I remember it. I was pretty young when my dad – left.”

“Do you want to go see it?” Peter asked.

“Not alone,” Johnny snorted.

“When did I ever say alone?” Peter asked. “Come on, Hotshot. Let’s go for a drive.”

***

“Ugh, McMansion town. I hate the suburbs.”

“What do you have against real closet space?” Johnny asked, slamming the car door shut.

“I have real closet space,” Peter said, shielding his eyes against the sun as he climbed out of the passenger side.

“You have real closet space because Reed knew Sue and I came from McMansion town,” Johnny said, leaning back against the car. “There it is.”

It wasn’t exactly what Peter had imagined on the ride over – but it might have been, twenty years ago. The lawn was overgrown. The pavement was cracked. There were shingles missing from the roof, and the bushes were creeping vine-like up one side.

Peter broke the lock with one quick shove and the door swung open. Inside it was dark and musty, humid in the summer sun. Peter tugged at the collar of his shirt and the temperature dropped obligingly.

“Thanks,” he said to Johnny.

“Don’t mention it,” Johnny said, looking around the front hall. “It looks different. I think the last owners put in carpet. My mom would have wept.”

“Were you happy here?” Peter said, watching as Johnny wandered into the living room. He stopped in front of the fireplace, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. “Like I said, I was just a kid. Even after the car accident… I didn’t really understand what was going on with dad, at the time. Sue shielded me from a lot.”

You miss her, Peter didn’t say. Of course Johnny missed her.

“Strange how different it is,” Johnny said. “I guess I always just thought it was sort of – frozen in time. Like Sue and I left and nothing changed. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“Not really,” Peter said. He never pictured that old house in Forrest Hills without his microscope on the desk of his old room, his old posters hanging up, the faded plaid bedspread. “Do you want it back?”

“What?” Johnny said.

Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said it. “If you want it back, it’s yours. I can probably even get a good deal on it.”

Either Johnny was going to laugh at him, Peter figured, or there was going to be a fireshow.

In the end, though, Johnny just smiled.

“You can’t buy me my old life back, Pete,” he said, dragging him out of the doorway and into the room. He looped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, just holding. “And if you could, this wouldn’t be the one I’d choose.”

“I know,” he said, leaning his forehead against Johnny’s. “I just wish I knew how to fix the things I can’t punch.”

“Me too,” Johnny said. After a second he stepped back, heading towards the stairs. He tossed Peter a grin over his shoulder. “Hey, beautiful. Want to see my old room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/148893594599/78-or-97-with-the-losers-pls)


	50. Lazy Morning Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _pariahsdream asked: Kiss meme Spideytorch! ALL OF THEM (okay serious 5, 6 or 19 plskthx?)_
> 
> _6\. lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up_

“No,” Johnny mumbled when he felt the bed dip and Peter slide under the covers. His hands came up automatically, eyes still shut, to shove at Peter’s bare chest, not that it did any good. “Nuh-uh, no fair.”

“What’s not fair?” Peter asked, voice teasing and far too awake. A hand slid into Johnny’s hair; Peter’s nose bumped his.

“You’re so _awake_ ,” Johnny said, half cut off by a yawn. Peter snickered, lips meeting Johnny’s chin, his cheek, anywhere but his mouth. Johnny curled towards, sleepily seeking body heat. “S’not fair. Spider-powers probably made you a morning person.”

“One, I was always a morning person, and two, it’s barely morning,” Peter countered, kissing the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “You like it.”

“Mmph.” He opened his eyes to catch Peter grinning at him, hair a mess from the mask and gaze a little wild. Good night, then. He opened his mouth for one kiss, one good kiss, long and deep. He spread his hands on Peter’s chest and shook the New York City chill from him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and grazing lightly before he broke away.

Then he rolled over and buried his face in the pillows, mumbling, “Don’t wake me back up for another five hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/159543909409/kiss-meme-spideytorch-all-of-them-okay-serious).


	51. Daken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1k of established relationship Spideytorch in celebration of my longtime headcanon that Daken and Johnny slept together being [word of author](http://myvisagewasted.tumblr.com/post/149567673617/x) confirmed. Truly self-indulgent! Immediately post Daken #23.

He barely registered Peter was in the room until there were gloved fingers pushing his wet hair back from his forehead.

“Can’t believe you showered without me,” he said, sounding beat but fond. He ripped off the mask and dropped it on Johnny’s bedroom floor. Johnny, sitting at the edge of the bed, looked up in time to see Peter’s lopsided grin before Peter bent to kiss him, quick and easy. Johnny’s heart pounded even as Peter straightened up, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “God, what a night. You better have left me hot water.”

Johnny snorted. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Peter said, shedding his costume as he headed towards the bathroom. “And I love this ivory tower you live in. Reed says none of the damage is structural.”

Tell that to the people who had chunks of the building fall on them, Johnny almost said, but he knew that Peter knew that, too. He picked himself up, wandering over to the door of his en suite bathroom. Peter was still talking, like he’d expected Johnny to follow him.

Shower, round two. Maybe on any other night.

“Never liked that guy,” Peter was saying, fiddling with the taps. “There’s the _oh look at my tattoos and leather pants_ walking the thin ethical line type and then there’s,” he broke off, spinning his index finger in the air by his temple and whistling.

He stepped into the shower, still talking – mostly to himself, because it was all Johnny could do not to remember how a perilous handful of hours ago he’d tried to stop Daken from leaving the building, shrugging off the sting of real people stay dead.

“Listen, man,” he’d said, catching Daken by the elbow. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we can help, so please don’t leave like this.”

Daken had turned to him, and relief had flooded Johnny’s veins – until Daken had inclined his head towards Johnny’s neck and inhaled.

“Did you know you smell like him?” he asked. “Cheap aftershave and sweat and chemical webbing. He smells like desperation. I saw him earlier, you know. Such a hero. I wonder what he’d think about you standing here, batting those eyes at another man.”

Johnny had physically recoiled, and Daken had grinned with teeth.

“Good boy,” he’d cooed, just to make Johnny flinch all over again.

He’d written it off as just another terrible post-break up interaction – he had no shortage of those – up until the explosions had started.

Johnny listed to the side, shoulder meeting the doorframe hard. He barely listened as Peter’s voice rose above the water’s spray, remembering snatches of one encounter with Daken in that shower, the punishing way Daken had pressed him up against the door, the hot hard weight of him at Johnny’s back, his smooth voice whispering in Johnny’s ear. He remembered the press of Daken’s fingers against his throat, the frisson of danger – exciting. Two years ago by his count, just two months to everyone else.

He remembered, barely two hours ago, Daken drugging Reed and throwing him from the top of the Empire State Building.

He felt sick. He felt so incredibly stupid.

“I slept with him,” he admitted, interrupting Peter mid-rant.

The water shut off. The door slid back. Peter was wide-eyed. “Slept with –?”

“I slept with Daken,” Johnny said, fingers digging into his own arms.

Peter boggled at him.

“When?” he demanded.

Johnny shrugged, gaze dropping to the floor. “A couple of times, before I, you know. Died. He played us. I don’t know why. Protection, maybe. He got a weapon out of Reed once. And I—I fucked him. And tonight he tried to kill Reed.”

He had heard some of what Daken had said to Reed, through the comms. _We took you in, trusted you, treated you like,_ Reed had said, and Daken had cut in with,  > _Please don’t say the F word. Some of us, the weak among us, desire human warmth, encouragement, and affirmation. Someone to pretend to listen while we whine about our day… we’re animals, we need sex. So we take on partners, and when we get tired in life we take on a life partner. Their siblings being an unwanted complication._

Reed had switched the comms off after that, a move he never pulled, a move he was always telling the rest of them not to pull – and he’d probably done it to stop Johnny from hearing any more.

Peter hissed through his teeth, grabbing a towel from the rack and knotting it around his waist. He pulled Johnny towards him, wrapping his arms tight around him. Johnny held onto him, breathing deep.

“Listen,” Peter told him. “You didn’t know. It’s not like he said, oh by the way, I’m using your family for my own nefarious plot, and I’m going to try to murder your brother-in-law and your best friend in one night sometime in the near future, right?”

“No,” Johnny admitted. “But I should have – I shouldn’t have let him in like that.”

He’d known Daken was dangerous. Maybe he’d just liked it too much, the idea of someone like that wanting him. He could just imagine what Ben would say.

Peter hummed, swaying a little, clumsily kissing the space just by Johnny’s ear. “It’s a good thing for Daken he probably blew himself up to high heaven, because if I saw him again…”

Johnny laughed, aching at the threat in Peter’s voice. “Big, bad Spider-Man. What would the Bugle say?”

“I think between me and the Bad Seed, I might actually get some good press for once,” Peter said. Softer, he said, “Hey. I got you.”

Peter had had him since the moment he’d kissed him on the threshold of the Negative Zone. Johnny clung a little harder, let Peter cradle the back of his head with one hand.

“You got me,” he confirmed. “And I know you won’t ever throw Reed off a building.”

“Mm,” Peter hummed. “Just Ben.”

“It doesn’t count if he threw you off the roof first,” Johnny said, laughing spite of himself. Peter started laughing too, just holding Johnny close against him. Johnny tried to think about that, and not about the cruel edge of Daken’s smile.

“Okay. I am so, so sorry,” Peter said after a second, hands sliding down to Johnny’s waist. He rested their foreheads together; Johnny closed his eyes; trust Peter to apologize for things that were the furthest thing from his fault. _Did you know you smell like him?_ He hadn’t, but he never wanted to smell like anything else. Just cheap aftershave and web fluid, forever. “What can I do?”

“Just this,” Johnny told him, winding his arms around Peter’s dependable shoulders. “This is good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/149586394014/have-some-johnny-hc)


	52. Post-Clone Conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: 2 or 18 for spideytorch?_
> 
> _18\. kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap_
> 
> Set during Amazing Spider-Man (2015) #25.

“Private jets? Black tie? Is the whole James Bond thing just to impress me?” Johnny asked, falling backwards across Peter’s lap. Peter wrapped one arm around him automatically, free hand fumbling to cut the video call he’d just dialed.

He was pretty sure Bobbi got a split-second glimpse of Johnny in his lap anyway.

“All part of my elaborate courtship scheme,” he said, settling his hand on Johnny’s thigh, just where the yellow panels started. “I know how high maintenance you are. And on such a booked flight, too.”

Johnny snickered as Peter gestured to all the other empty seats. “Like that’s a legitimate complaint.”

“SHIELD’s expecting me to call in,” Peter said, a token protest.

“Make ‘em wait for it. Makes them want you more,” Johnny said, touching Peter’s cheek and guiding him into the kiss. It was pure Johnny, all volcanic, that hot mouth opening under his. For a long few minutes they just kissed, Johnny pliant and easygoing in his lap.

But there was something a little desperate in the way Johnny held onto him, though, and his leg was tight under Peter’s palm no matter how many times he stroked his hand up and down.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked when they broke apart, a stupid question. So much had gone wrong, these past few weeks. To ask Johnny so simply seemed inadequate. 

For a second Johnny didn’t answer, just toyed with Peter’s collar, and then finally he said, “I know where you’re going after this. Don’t try to put me in a different car and pretend like everything’s fine, you just forgot you needed to do one quick thing at the office.”

“Johnny,” Peter said, caught so completely off guard he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I know you,” Johnny said, hot-eyed. “And in case you forgot, my dad was the one who actually got cloned.”

As if Peter could ever forget. Ben – though he hadn’t known, yet, that it was Ben, that it was his brother, had still thought it was Miles Warren beneath that mask – with his arm outstretched: “Call it a little something for the in-laws.”

A thousand times worse, the quaver in Johnny’s voice as he’d said, “Dad?”, when Peter had known already that it wasn’t real.

He cursed softly, grip tightening on Johnny.

“So I want to go with you,” Johnny said, the set of his jaw defiant. He was expecting Peter to argue. Peter was too full of grief for that. “And then I want you to come with me out to Long Island, where my dad’s buried.”

“You want that?” Peter asked, surprised. “With me?”

Johnny rolled his eyes, but the act was poor. “You met the clone. You should come with me to visit the real deal.”

Peter swallowed hard, wondering how he could have let his crazy, mixed up life touch Johnny like this, and tugged Johnny back down for another kiss, gentle this time. He stroked the back of his neck.

“Okay,” he said, eyes closed. “I’ll cancel the second car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/159590157704/2-or-18-for-spideytorch)


	53. Franklin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: i wish you would write a fic where johnny and franklin talk after the whole negative zone situation. especially since frankin believed he couldve stopped johnny from dying._
> 
> Mostly gen, some tiny Spideytorch.

At first, Johnny wasn’t sure what had woken him up. That happened a lot, these days - footsteps in the hallway. Peter humming in the shower. His own dreams, the anticipation of guards coming to lead him from his cell, phantom sensation of Annihilus’s hand around his throat.

He’d used to be such a sound sleeper.

The bed dipped, not enough for the intruder to be an adult, and besides, Peter knew better. He covered his eyes with one hand.

“Kiddo, we talked about this, remember?” he said, yawning and turning over. Franklin froze, looking faintly guilty in the moonlight. “You’re too big for this kind of thing…”

Franklin’s lower lip actually wobbled. Johnny hadn’t had much in the way of resolve to kick him out to start with, but what was left disintegrated. He lifted the covers and Franklin slipped in.

“I had a dream,” he confessed, shoulders hunched practically up to his ears. Johnny fixed the blankets around him, settled his hand at his nephew’s back.

“Tell me about it?”

“Monsters hurt you,” Franklin whispered in the dark between them. “The gate closed and they cut you open.” 

It was an effort not to touch his chest where that first swing of the axe had cleaved him through. He shushed Franklin, rubbing circles at his back.

“It’s not one of those dreams,” he said. “Just a regular nightmare, I promise.”

It couldn’t be one of Franklin’s prophetic dreams if it had already happened.

“I coulda stopped it,” Franklin said, eyes all wet. Johnny clucked his tongue, wiping at Franklin’s face.

“Listen,” he said. “Your Uncle Ben wanted to stay, didn’t he? He wanted to be the one. I had the chance to save him, and all of you. I took it. I wasn’t going to let anybody else do that.”

Franklin nodded, jerkily. Johnny shushed him again.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here now, right? It’s all okay.” He fumbled for the bedside table, picking up the remote, and switched on the TV as he pulled Franklin a little closer, so his head was resting on Johnny’s shoulder. “Come on. Movie night? I’ll let you pick.”

“Okay,” Franklin said, voice still small. A noise from the window made him look up, though Johnny didn’t so much as blink. “What’s Spider-Man doing coming through your window?”

“Uh,” Peter said, caught with one leg slung over the sill. Johnny smirked.

“He gets lost,” he said, squeezing Franklin around the shoulders. “Now that he’s here, though, he could make us popcorn.”

“Ugh,” Peter said. “Fine. My plans are ruined anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/158293112334/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-johnny-and)


	54. Heights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: 19 or 3 with spideytorch please!_

[If loud, weird public sex is wrong, then being wrong is wicked hot. (right and wrong are just guidelines to hotter sex) ](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1225)

There were a lot of perks that came with dating Johnny Storm. First off, there was _Johnny Storm_ , with that face – those eyes, that mouth – and that hair and those legs in that tight uniform Peter could stop pretending he didn’t ogle, thank you, relationship, thank you very much. Johnny with that laugh that did things to Peter, always ready to bicker for the hell of it, always in it for the next joke.

There was, admittedly, the pretty amazing water pressure in Johnny’s bathroom, and his criminally soft mattress. Peter was only human.

Best of all, though, there were the heights. Johnny could – and would, and did – go where Peter went, under his own power. Every night was a race, if they wanted.

There was nothing like New York City at night.

“I love these old buildings,” Peter said, landing on the side of the Chrysler. He twisted around, stuck soundly to dark glass, and reached out when Johnny zipped by. Johnny took his hands and flamed off, letting Peter pull him up against himself. He planted his feet and spread his knees so Johnny could balance across his lap, utterly at home seventy floors above street level. “They don’t build ‘em like this anymore, huh, hotshot?”

“Mmhmm,” Johnny hummed, toying with the line of Peter’s mask.

“Can’t get a better view, either,” Peter said, palming Johnny’s hip. “All those lights… all the people down there…”

“Pete?” Johnny said, rolling his mask up. “You talk too much.”

Johnny’s mouth was hot against his throat, body blazing – figuratively – in Peter’s arms.

“Right here?” Peter said. “Right now? Hot stuff, I might just faint from the immodesty of it all.”

“Come on,” Johnny said, coaxing. “Who else are you ever going to get up here like this?”

“I stick to things and I’m super-strong,” Peter said. “I could probably figure it out.”

Johnny bit him.

“But obviously they wouldn’t be as hot as you,” Peter amended.

Somewhere in between their first kiss and right now Peter had become an expert at getting Johnny out of unstable molecules. Peter’s suit was less of a hassle to peel off, but he gave Johnny props for smooth execution as he webbed his shed shirt and gloves out of the way.

Johnny whooped with laughter. “Yeah, Spidey! Take it off!”

[When I look at you all I can see are the mistakes we’re going to make. (The future’s so bright.) ](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=967)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/156964815869/19-or-3-with-spideytorch-please)


	55. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: Could you possibly... idk... write a tiny little h/c thing with Johnny and the rest of the FF?_

At first, there was a lot of crying. It was all he’d dreamed about for a year, all he’d wished and hoped and prayed for. He wrapped his arms around his sister’s shoulders and begged her not to let go – not that she could have, with Reed’s arms triple-looped around them. Add Ben’s huge arms over Reed’s and all the children milling around and Johnny couldn’t have gone anywhere if he’d wanted to.

It was perfect. The best he’d felt in forever.

It didn’t last.

“Where were you?” he’d asked Sue, later after the chaos had faded a little, when he could get a moment with just her, sequestered in the kitchen. “What happened?”

She’d told him everything – Battleworld and the aftermath, Franklin and the Molecule Man, Reed and Valeria and the Future Foundation and all their amazing ideas for worlds. Whole worlds.

“Why didn’t you take me and Ben with you, though?” he asked, trying to shake off the betrayal prickling just under his skin. “There has to be a reason, right, sis? Why you couldn’t take us?”

Sue’s face was shadowed by guilt.

“When I thought about you, burning up there in the sky…” she said, hands clenching around her mug. “It wasn’t me, but it was, and I put you up there. And I didn’t want you to have to suffer anymore. I wanted you to be able to live your life.”

He stared at her for a long moment, unable to speak.

“Are you serious?” he said when he regained enough composure, when his ears stopped sounding like there was fire roaring in them. “You left me here – because you didn’t want me to suffer?”

He stood up so quickly his chair toppled to the floor; Sue startled.

“Johnny?” she said, staring up at him.

“What do you think I’ve been doing down here, Sue?” he demanded, and then he’d had to leave by the window because he couldn’t spend one minute more not exploded, a twisted-up supernova of anger and betrayal and self-pity.

 

* * *

 

He holed up with Peter and refused to answer calls or see them or talk about it, more or less. It worked out pretty well for his purposes: Peter let him drape himself all over him and felt bad enough to let Johnny pick the television channel and made generally sympathetic noises when he wasn’t telling Johnny to call his family.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Peter kept saying. “All year you’ve been missing them like a part of yourself and now that they’re back, you’re living on my couch, eating my food, pretending there’s no life outside this apartment.”

“’Your food’ is takeout I bully you into ordering,” Johnny shot back, pointedly ignoring all the other words that had come out of Peter’s mouth. Peter sighed and threw his hands in the air and let Johnny bully him into ordering Thai food because Peter was easy like that.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was ignoring all his family. He saw the kids. It wasn’t their fault he’d been left.

“You would’ve been bored, Uncle Johnny,” Val said one afternoon while Franklin was busy messing around with Peter’s ridiculous and underused entertainment center. She’d wanted his attention all the time since they’d been back, which with Val mostly meant she acted like she was doing him a favor by asking him to fancy braid her hair. “Rebuilding universes really is a lot of math. You can ask Mom.”

“You can ask me,” Franklin mumbled, somewhat testily. Universe rebuilding seemed to have sprung him straight into the moody teen years.

Did it occur to your parents that I would rather have been space sunning myself on a rock with my family than struggling on this planet alone? he almost said, but that was too heavy a topic for the kids. Besides, Val was four, and already worse than her dad about making decisions for other people.

“One braid or two?” he asked instead.

“I feel like a kidnapper,” Peter said when he got back from dropping the kids off. “And then, several hours later, I feel like a reverse kidnapper.”

“That’s not a thing,” Johnny said, lying flat on his back on the couch.

“It’s a thing when I say it’s a thing,” Peter said, bracing himself against the back of the couch. “Sue –”

Johnny cut him off with a loud groan; Peter, predictably, was undeterred.

“Your sister,” he continued, loudly, “who loves you, asked me to pass along that, again, she loves you. And she wants to see you. And I, personally, think you should see her.”

“You see her,” Johnny shot back. His head hurt and he didn’t feel like coming up with an actual rebuttal that Peter would doubtlessly have already prepared an argument for. There were downsides to knowing each other as long as they had.

“I have seen her, that’s the problem. Hey,” Peter said, eyebrows knit together in a frown. “I love you, you know that, and I want what’s best for you. And I’m pretty sure we both know that’s your family.”

Johnny rolled over and buried his face in the couch cushions before he said something he’d regret.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, visitor to see you,” Peter announced after about two weeks, the elevator doors dinging open. “I tried to stop him, but he’s one of the dozen people in our social circle who can actually beat me at arm wrestling. And also I didn’t really try to stop him.”

Ben stood behind him, larger than life.

Johnny swallowed, unable to say anything back at all.

“Well, I’ll be downstairs,” Peter said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Break things and start a huge brawl if you need anything.”

He fled too fast for Johnny to even glare at him, back in the elevator. Ben waited until the doors had dinged shut again to say, “Hey, kid.”

He cast a look around the apartment, rocky brows raising.

“This what the bug’s done with the place?” he harrumphed, crossing his massive arms. “Well, guess we can’t all have Aunt Petunia’s bashful nephew’s sense o’ style.”

It was too much – Ben, here in this building with so much of their history written in it, with the same old jokes Johnny had been hearing over half his life.

“What are you doing here, Ben?” he asked. “You’re mad at me.”

“Sure,” said Ben, nodding. “Going on nearly sixteen years now, ever since ya fell out of that tree onto my head when you wuz fourteen.”

“You left,” Johnny said, hands balled into fists.

“Not the first time,” Ben said.

“It was different this time,” Johnny said, lighting up a little, hair and shoulders and hands. “You didn’t come back!”

“Alright,” Ben said. “So I was mad at ya. I was mad at Suzie and Stretch, too. I was angry at the world, and you took the brunt of that, ‘cause you were there. But I don’t want to be mad at you no more. And I don’t think you want to be mad, either.”

He wasn’t wrong. Johnny had never been good at grudges, always burning through his anger hot and fast. And he wanted to go home. He wanted to be happy. He did.

He didn’t know why it had to be so hard.

“Why are you here?” he asked, breath hitching a little.

“’Cause we’re a family, Matchstick,” Ben said. “And we don’t work right without you. Just like we didn’t work right without them.”

Johnny collapsed back onto the sofa, strings cut, flames extinguished. He buried his face in his hands, then pushed them up into his hair.

“They made the decision for us,” he said. “It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.”

The floor creaked as Ben got down on his knees in front of him. “I know. Same ol’ Stretch-o, making decisions for everyone. But they did it because they love us, John. They wanted us to have our own lives, not be stuck waiting for them.”

Johnny inhaled shakily, swiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’m so sick of other people making my decisions for me.”

“Yeah?” Ben said. “Who jumped into the Negative Zone after I’d already made up my mind?”

“That was different,” Johnny said, shaking his head. That was when he’d gone away from them, not the other way around. “I was saving your life.”

“What do you think they thought they were doin’, huh?” Ben asked, softly.

“I don’t know how we can go back to what we were,” Johnny admitted, eyes blurring.

“So maybe we don’t go back,” Ben said. There had always been something so naked about Ben’s blue eyes – Johnny could always tell how he felt by looking at them. He swallowed, hard, at the unshakable strength there. “We go forward. Together.”

He flung his arms around Ben’s neck, practically falling off the sofa and onto him. Ben’s big hand covered his back, rocky thumb brushing feather-light at the base of his neck.

“S’okay, kid,” he said as Johnny buried his face against Ben’s throat. “S’all gonna be okay now.”

 

* * *

 

“Why am I here again?” Peter said as they walked through Central Park.

“Moral support,” Johnny said.

“And here I was, remembering that nice couple of months we were practically the Fantastic Five,” Peter said with a mocking little sigh.

“You wish.”

“Does this mean I have to give up the Baxter Building after all?” Peter asked, and Johnny whipped around to face him. Peter held his hands up in front of him. “Kidding, kidding. Hey, I see them.”

He pointed up ahead, to where a huge blanket was spread out. Dragon Man anchored one corner of it, and Ben another, and half the children were thronging Sue while she passed out sandwiches. She looked up and caught his eye and broke into the biggest smile.

Tentatively, he smiled back.

“Go,” Peter said, nudging him. He gestured over to where Alex seemed to be trying to lead the Moloids in a game of soccer. “I see a gaggle of nerds trying to figure out sports and I’m going to go make it worse.”

“So much for the moral support,” Johnny said as Peter dumped his jacket on him and took off at a sprint.

Reed came over to Johnny before Johnny could move towards the blanket, and one long arm pulled him into a hug. It took Johnny a second, but then he returned it, arms slung easily around Reed – Reed who had always, for better or worse, made him feel like it was all going to be alright.

“We’re very glad you decided to join us,” Reed said, squeezing lightly. “We did miss you, Johnny.”

“Yeah, I know,” Johnny said, and let Reed lead him down towards the others. “I missed you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/158173644539/hi-just-wanted-to-let-you-know-that-your-comic)


	56. Kidfic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: peter alternates between feeling uber horny and uber mushy watching johnny be such a fantastic father. fatherhood has never looked sexier or more endearing_

“Are they asleep?”

Johnny jumped, spinning around. He was dressed in one of Peter’s old shirts and a worn pair of jeans, barefoot against the carpet. His hair stuck up at all angles, like he’d been running his hands through it – or, more likely, like tiny little hands had been trying to yank it. He looked exhausted. Peter kind of wanted to pin him up against the wall.

“Could you make noise when you walk, please?” Johnny demanded. Peter snickered, pushing away from the door. His hands found Johnny’s waist, just holding.

“Could _you_ answer my question?” Peter said.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Yes, your horrible children are down.”

“Oh, when they’re horrible, they’re my children,” Peter said, the same old script.

“It’s when they most resemble you,” Johnny said. Peter huffed, leaning in. Johnny slapped a palm over his mouth. “Dude, that’s not happening. I’m mad at you.”

“You’re mad at me, huh?” Peter said, words muffled against Johnny’s hand. The kiss that followed was soft and sweet and, he was sure, completely predictable; he watched Johnny try not to melt anyway. “What’d I do now?”

“You know what you did,” Johnny said, scowling. He dropped his hand. “You left me alone with our children. Our screaming, wailing children who have _colds_.”

“To save people!” Peter protested. “Innocent civilians!”

“Innocent civilians are more important than your family?” Johnny said.

“That – this is a trap,” Peter said. “You’re baiting me and I won’t play along.”

Johnny wasn’t really mad – Peter didn’t get to hold him when he was really mad –, just fried, probably. Which was Peter’s fault. He had taken one look at his children – his beautiful, wonderful children, currently screaming, snotty monsters – and his Avengers comm had gone off, and he’d said to the room, “What’s that, Cap? Giganto’s attacking the bay? Spider-Man away!”

He wasn’t proud. He was still working out how best to bear the weight of this new responsibility, heavier than all the others, bitter a little when everything about it came so easily to Johnny, a flaming duck to water for once. But only a little bitter – a lot more something else.

“Sorry,” he said, reeling Johnny in closer. Johnny let him with a minimum of resistance, arms looped around Peter’s neck. “Sorry, sorry. I suck.”

“The worst,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. Peter tilted his head and kissed him, very softly. “If you didn’t save at least thirty people you’re on the couch until they graduate.”

“Too bad for me, only managed twenty-eight,” Peter said. “Better hope they have my brains. Hey, come here.”

“You left me alone and outnumbered while my sister is away,” Johnny groused, but he shut his eyes and met Peter’s lips with all of the usual passion. “You’re a supervillain.”

“I know, I know,” Peter said, swaying them back and forth a little. “I’m a bad man. You’re gorgeous.”

“I’m just barely standing, you traitor,” Johnny said. 

“I knew you’d be fine, Super-Dad,” Peter said, worming a hand up the back of Johnny’s shirt, rubbing little circles against tight muscles. “You’re like the hottest version of one of those shows where the nanny shows up and shames everything the parents do.”

That, at least, got him a laugh. “I don’t know where to start with that one. This is why I don’t like you watching TV without me.”

“There was a marathon on the other night while you were sleeping,” Peter confessed. “Fell asleep to it and dreamed a British lady was very critical about the time I mixed the twins up.”

“Nobody could possibly be more critical than me about the time you mixed the twins up,” Johnny told him.

“You put them in matching outfits!” 

“Like that’s an excuse,” Johnny snorted. There was a hand in Peter’s hair now, trailing across the back of his head. “You okay? Anyone get a lucky hit in?”

“Fine,” Peter promised. “You can be mad guilt free. Although…” He shifted his grip, hauling Johnny up. It was automatic for Johnny to lock his legs around Peter’s waist, for his hands to fly to Peter’s face. He made a noise that wasn’t entirely exasperation. Peter thanked his spider-sense for the fact that he could walk them backwards towards the bedroom worry-free. “If you can table it for right now, we are blissfully unoccupied for the moment…”

Johnny’s fingers tangled in Peter’s hair. “You owe me more than a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://traincat.tumblr.com/post/156109493769/peter-alternates-between-feeling-uber-horny-and)


End file.
